Ask Calus
by Hermy Puckle
Summary: Ask Calus is The Daily Prophet's new advice columnist and he is sweeping the wizarding world! But who is this mysterious man? Hermione Granger is going to go undercover to find out. Along the way she will make friends, eat cheesecake, and get numb feet! V
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own any thing you recognise--otherwise you would be buying this in the store, not looking at it on here--but am only borrowing them for a time being. I will give them back Miss Rowling, I promise. Well, except Snape.

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_**ASK CALUS**_

_**Dear Calus,**_

_**I am 102 and a widower of three years. My wife died in a car accident; no healer could save her. Although I know I should move on now, I just cannot. I miss her too much, Calus. My children and friends tell me I should go out and date women, to let my wife, Ruby, go; but I feel like that would be disrespecting her. What should I do, Calus?**_

_**-Dufftown Deceased Lover**_

_Dear Dufftown,_

_You bloody imbecile, she is dead! Your wife "Ruby" is never coming back, you pathetic man. She is six feet under and unless she chose to return as a ghost—which I doubt since I know if I were married to such a sad excuse for a wizard, I would look to the afterlife as a way out to myself—you're never going to see her again, got it? Moreover, you should not even try to date because you will probably just sit there boring your dates to death with stories of your wife. Here is what you should do: stop writing newspapers because they aren't going to give you the answer you want, alright? Go out and get drunk at a pub every night because there is nothing else for you._

_**Dear Calus,**_

_**I read your column everyday, watching as poor souls write to you for advice and you give them the worst sort on top of an insult. Don't you know that these people look up to you? They need your help, help from an admired person. You influence many people, Calus, and as such should watch what you say. In addition, quit being so mean! I will admit that even though I have no clue who you really are or what you look like, I don't like you. **_

_**-Empathetic from London**_

_Empathetic,_

_You don't like me? Then why do you read my bloody column? If you don't like what I say then quit picking up the damn paper and reading this! In addition, I will not glaze everything with icing just because you think I'm mean. I will say whatever the fuck I want to say and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it. And those "poor souls" that write in? If they really want my advice, let them ask for it. Because if they wanted some psychiatry-type bullshit you'd probably give them, they would be asking you, now wouldn't they?_

It was the newest thing to hit the magical part of London. No one knew where it came from but the "Ask Calus" column just suddenly appeared in _The_ _Daily Prophet_, throwing out insults. Ginny couldn't get enough of it, and I suspect, harboured fantasies about this mystery man.

I tried to point out that this could be some two hundred year-old pervert and also that she was married but she was quite like a person standing out in the rain without an umbrella, refusing to get wet.

To be honest though, I was curious as to whom the mystery was; who _was_ this Calus person and where did he get off thinking we should hear what he said?

I read his column everyday trying to get a small peek into the man—he'd stated in one of his earlier columns that he was male—behind the curtain. And being a reporter for _The Quibbler_—which had become a rather credible newspaper after the article on Harry—I could do just that.

I wasn't looking to make the front page; I was just looking to reveal the identity of Calus--Calus Who? Also, I thought, if Ginny's fantasy image of him was ruined, she'd stop obsessing over him. Therefore, I decided to go undercover and apply for a job at _The_ _Daily Prophet_, with the advice of my boss, Mr. Robert Lovegood, and my promise to publish my findings.

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A/N: This is the first story I have published so pleasepleasepleaseplease let me know what you think! I will take all forms of reviews: criticisms, complements, flames...just review!

Another A/N: Can anyone find out where I got the name Calus? I will give you a hint: it isn't Latin...

Thanks loads to my LOVELY betas for your wisdom. (bows deeply)

Next chappie...Hermione's disguise...


	2. Meet Lucy Puckle

Disclaimer: Snape, Harry, Hermione, Ron, etc. aren't mine. Never will be. So please don't sue me! I have no money.

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Meet Lucy Puckle

"I thank you for meeting with me, Miss…" The squat, white-haired man peered down his nose through his wire-rimmed spectacles at my application. "Puckle."

"Oh, do call me Lucy, won't you?" I batted my eyelashes in the epitome of innocence. Lucy Puckle was actually my mother's maiden name and since she was a Muggle, I knew there was no chance of there being another witch by that name--or my future employer, Mr. Dennis, remembering it.

Right now, he glanced up at me with his watery blue eyes, his eyebrows arched high in what he probably thought was a kindly way but actually made him look a bit creepy. His extraordinarily short fingers traced the lines of the paper as his eyes followed. "Well, Miss—Lucy, it says here that you were once a reporter on a Muggle paper, _The London Query_, is that right? I've never heard of it, I'm afraid."

I was quick to the ball with my lie. "It was a small tabloid weekly newsletter but went out of business because of the competition. You can still speak with my former boss there, Mr. Allen Wilson. He still lives in Surrey, I believe." Mr. Lovegood was going to pose as an Allen Wilson if needed.

Mr. Dennis nodded. "You were the star reporter?"

I shook my head. "No sir, I only did bits. I'm not as good at fabricating lies from truths as Julie was. In fact, to be honest, I was quite deplorable at it."

"Then what on earth did you write?"

I smiled warmly. "Instead I went out and searched the world for the most unbelievable, oddest stories that looked like they should belong in a tabloid but were real. And I mean odd by Muggle standards. Nothing on wizards or witches." I added the last bit so he didn't think I went and talked about our world.

Mr. Dennis' gaze levelled on mine and I could tell he was not a gullible man. It was a good thing I'd rehearsed this interview a million times since I hadn't lied when I said I couldn't tell fibs very well. "Why did you write for a Muggle newspaper, then, and not a wizarding one?"

I shrugged. "I grew up around Muggles, and after fighting in the war, I decided I would have a bit of a break, you know, to submerge myself into simplicity. Can you blame me?" Acting as if I was somewhat new to all the magical events would lead any suspicion away that I was actually here to find the identity of Calus. In the past few weeks, there had been many other news syndications buzzing about his articles.

The overhead candles, bright as fluorescent lights, illuminated Mr. Dennis' bald head, casting a glare directly into my eyes as he looked down at my application and turned it over before looking back into my eyes. "I'm afraid we don't have any reporting jobs open, but we do have an editor's position available—does that sound ok to you?"

OK?? I could possibly have Calus himself hand me his work! Then I could be out of here in no time! I gushed in the most feminine way, "Oh, that's just fine as all I wanted to do was work here for this fine newspaper." Fine? They used to make up rumours about Harry and me!

We arranged for me to arrive at _The Daily Prophet_ headquarters the next day, my first day as Lucy Puckle: Editor.

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A/N: I got Hermione's alias from two different sources. One, J. K. Rowling said she was originally going to give Hermione the last name "Puckle" so I made it her mum's maiden name.

And Lucy is named after my neighbor who had just brought us cheesecake.

Mr. Dennis is inspired by my odd boss Phil.

Loads of gratitude to my intelligent betas!

Next chappie...Hermione makes a friend...


	3. Working Incognito

Disclaimer: Not mine. Nuh uh.

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Working Incognito

_**ASK CALUS**_

_**Dear Calus,**_

_**I don't understand how the Ministry could cover up that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back in 1994. It is just deplorable that—**_

_I had to stop this writer right there. All this bitching and whining about how the Ministry covered this up or lied about this... That's what governments do, alright? They lie to you, they keep things from the public, things they feel you don't need to know. You are a child trying to ask your parents about their adult conversation. It made them look bad, also, to be wrong about Voldemort—yes, I said it; the man's been dead for four years, ok? Stop being afraid of him, you cowards!—being dead._

_Alright, I have already wasted enough paper on this subject but I will say that more of you should accept that your government lies to you everyday; in fact, the ministry only tells the truth if it shines them in a bright light. Oh, you lot must be the thickest group of leaders—how did I get you? Is _The Daily Prophet _only being sent to stupid people?_

_**Dear Calus,**_

_**My mother is the most beautiful woman in my life and last night, we kissed after dinner. I mean, really kissed, as in snogging. I am eighteen years old and really confused. Is this incest? And she wants to kiss me again so doesn't that make it alright? And should we tell my dad?**_

_**-Wants to Marry His Mother**_

_Wants,_

_You are a sick fuck, Wants. Of course its incest, you disgusting little pervert. But I guess incest runs in the family (no pun intended) so your mum is just as bad. You two need to take some therapy because your mother probably just isn't getting enough from your dad and you are just a horny teenager who will one day regret ever doing that. Did you know Voldemort's grandparents were sister and brother? Now think about this--if your mum gets pregnant from you, not only will the kid be both your sibling and your son/daughter, he could actually turn out to be just like Voldemort. Do you want that?_

_Honestly, I have the worst lot of readers in London. If any of you want to write me with problems or comments that actually make sense, write me. If not, then go kill yourself, just like Wants needs to do._

I am in the tiniest cubicle on the face on earth. I swear to you that I do not exaggerate. There is only the tiniest desk (think school desk) and a chair. That takes up the entire corner. I mean, I didn't have the executive suite at _The Quibbler_ or anything--I barely had an office--but at least I had room to stretch my arms to the sides without hitting my knuckles.

As soon as I sat down, a large stack of papers appeared in front of me: my new assignments.

"Don't worry," a voice said from above. I looked up to see a petite girl of an indistinguishable age with a short blonde bob and rather stringy fringe. She leaned over the cubical wall in front of me. "It only seems like a lot at first but time goes fast." She thrust out her hand, an engagement ring on her finger next to her pinky. "I'm Lola, by the way."

I shake her hand. "Lucy. Pleasure to meet you and thank you."

She made a fist and rested her chin on it, eying me speculatively. "Did they tell you when your break is and all that nonsense?"

"They did." Just lunch and that's it.

She sighed as a frumpy woman with short poofy hair walked by. Lola eyed her pityingly before confiding, "See her? That is Edna Breckinridge, poor dear. She found her husband with Becky from Dining and Cuisine in bed together, at least that's what Gwendolyn from Celebrities said she overheard the two arguing about."

I hadn't intended on making any friends since I'm sure any friends I made wouldn't be too happy when they'd learn that I was there as a spy, but Lola was just what I needed: a gossiper. It would probably be through her that I would find Calus. I needed to stick with the eyes and ears of _The Daily Prophet_ workers and she seemed the type.

The best way to get "in" with someone? Kiss ass.

I pointed to her engagement ring. "Are you getting married?"

She brightened the way only a woman-in-love can, a glow spreading across her entire face. "Uh huh! To my Stephen Lettico, one of the body guards for The Weird Sisters."

"The Weird Sisters?" I opened my eyes as wide as possible so as to appear impressed. "So you, like, know them?"

"Not personally, but I did meet the drummer, Orsino Thruston, who's Stephen's best mate."

We talked a bit more about her delightful(ly boring) relationship with Stephen and promised to eat together before we had to return to our work.

At least Lola was correct in the sense that time did fly when editing. It seemed like I'd only been working for ten minutes when the bell sounded for lunch.

On the way, and during, our break, Lola told me everything about just about everyone. From Danny-the-incompetent to Andrea-with-no-hope-of-getting-that-loan-for-her-home, I knew all the sordid details.

When she'd settled on the subject of Hilda-from-advertisement being an avid reader of tabloids, I quickly veered the subject around.

"I used to work for a Muggle tabloid," I told her and her eyes went wide with pure envy. Before she could launch into questioning me about that, I quickly added, "You know, I was the advice columnist there"—please don't let her talk to Mr. Dennis, of all people!—"and I wanted to be one here, but I was told that there already is one…" I pretended to try to remember the name. "Calus? Who is he?"

She took a bite of her dry sandwich and replied, her mouth quite full, "I honestly don't know. I've been trying to find out but it seems like he's a phantom, and Mr. Dennis won't spill on his name. It actually could be any one in here, even a fellow editor." She leaned forward, a very…wolfish grin on her lips. "Though I hear he is a former worker here, a sore, bitter man who is related to Grindelwald."

I wasn't quite sure how credible Lola was, and in fact, doubted she had the story right, but I was certain of one thing: I was going to have to do some interviewing—tomorrow since I still had many papers to edit.

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A/N: Please tell me what you think!

Lola came from...my own head. She is roughly a depiction of my friend JoJo. All except the blond hair. Yeah, that's her.

Thanks loads to my betas who pointed out the real drummer of the Wierd Sisters and the huge clue I had laying in there.

Next chappie...In which a lie is born...


	4. Questions, Answers, and More Questions

Disclaimer: No, I am not famous and No, I am not the genius that invented the Harry Potter Universe and Yes, you may have my autograph but No, I don't think you will make much on Ebay with it.

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Questions, answers, and more questions after that

The next day, Tuesday, seemed to crawl even slower.

However, I did manage to cross the entire editing department off my list of possible Caluses. Most of them were very lonely and kept coming on to me. I may not be like one of those girls who only choose people based on their appearance but I like to stay under a hundred years older than me and within my species, thank you.

In addition, none of them seemed to be able to possess the bitterness that Calus does—as they all seemed to have overdosed on cheering potions. In addition, none of them seemed like they could act as bitter since the most intelligent, calmest one confessed, after five minutes of talking, that he has violet hair growing on his palm and he had no idea how it got there. I know, way to woo a girl, right?

Moreover, Lola had no information for me during lunch and, to avoid another intriguing (ha!) tale of the woes of _The Daily Prophet_ staff, I muttered something about the painters coming in and practically sprinting to the loo.

Except I had no idea where it was and ended up getting lost, turning down many bright white corridors before I stopped…

Only to be knocked over by something very tall.

There sprawled on the floor, in da Vinci's _Study of a Man_ type position, I felt my face redden immediately, something it tends to do in the slightest breath of embarrassment. A hand appeared in my vision and I took it, the long fingers enveloping my hand in warmth as the person helped me to my feet.

However, when I stood up and looked into my helper's eyes to thank him, the thought slid out the back of my head.

Even thought it had been four years since I'd seen him, the hooked nose, long black hair, and impossibly dark eyes that scorched everyone they happened to glance, would always be familiar.

It was… "Professor Snape?"

His eyes penetrated mine as he recognized me. "Miss Granger, what are you doing here?"

Lola suddenly appeared at my side. "There you are, Lucy Puckle. You are a difficult person to track down." She broke off and looked down to where Snape and I still clasped hands then up at him before smiling at me in a very knowing way, as if she knew exactly what was going on, which I highly doubted. "I just wanted to tell you that I would be leaving early to help my sister so, I'll see you tomorrow, ok?"

I nodded and she Disapparated away.

When I looked back at Snape, he was smirking. "Lucy Puckle?"

The last person I'd expected to pose a threat of blowing my cover had caught me and there was no way I would be able to lie my way out of this. I sighed in surrender and pulled him to the side. In a hiss, I told him, "Ok, don't tell anyone but I actually work for _The Quibbler_—"

He nodded. "So I hear."

"…and I have an assignment to come here undercover to discover the identity of one Calus."

There was a confusing look on his face. "The advice columnist? Why?"

I shrugged. "Well, what do we know about him except that he's a complete asshole? I think we all deserve to know who feels he's important enough to give such horrible advice to people. Also, Ginny is quite fancying him. Imagine, fancying someone who you haven't even seen, or heard, or even know the name of! I really feel I must nip this thing in the bud." Oh, Merlin, Ginny would kill me if she knew I'd just told Professor Snape that.

His eyebrows went way up and he was so amused he could barely speak. "She does? Why?"

I didn't know so I changed the subject. "Why are _you_ here, Professor?"

His face just closed, as if he were retreating inside himself, his eyes full of fire and his lips pursed. "Even though it is none of your concern, I am here because some person wanted an interview with me and would not let me rest until I agreed."

This was understandable since everyone wanted to know the big spy who managed to infiltrate Voldemort's innermost circle and help Albus Dumbledore fake his death. In fact, Mr. Lovegood had been trying to get an interview with Snape also.

"Professor, since _The Quibbler's_ been trying to get a hold of you for a while, do you think that I could have an interview with you, do you think you could give me an interview?"

He gave a sort of huff and resmirked. "I'm sure you will have your interview with me soon."

I didn't know what exactly that meant except that I would have my interview.

Lola was back and her eyes were sparkling. "If you two are done holding hands, I need to borrow Lucy."

Snape released his grip on my hand and glared at his own as if it'd betrayed him. Then he told my feet, "I need to go." Then he disappeared.

"I thought you had to go help your sis," I said to Lola accusingly.

She rolled her eyes. "I lied to leave you two alone. Who was that?" The smile she flashed me was overly bright. "You seemed pretty friendly with him…"

"He was my professor at Hogwarts, Severus Snape."

The name of a mild celebrity didn't deter her. "Uh huh," she said in a way that told me she didn't believe that that was all he was.

"That's it."

She grabbed me by my elbow and started leading me back in the direction of the cafeteria. "Lucy, Lucy, Lucy. It is rather obvious you two are _dating_ and you can trust me to tell me the truth; I'm your _friend_, ok? So start by telling me how long you've known him!"

Why did I have the feeling that no matter what I said she'd still believe Snape and I were an item? I also realized that this could actually work to my advantage. If I could tell Lola's character as well as I thought, I knew that if she didn't know any dirt on me, she'd start digging (smooth dirt references, I must say).If she did, she might discover that Lucy Puckle is a fifty-two year old Muggle who now lives in America. It wouldn't be difficult to discover who I was from there. Therefore, to save my skin, I replied, in truth, "About eleven years."

She whistled. "Whoo, Lucy likes older men! How long have you been together?"

Erm… "Not long." What do I say?

"A few months?" guessed Lola.

Sure. "Yeah."

"How did you meet him?"

"Erm…he used to be my professor at Hogwarts."

Her violently blue eyes went wide and a shit-faced grin appeared to on her face. "Oh, oh, oh, kinky!"

Ok, time for a subject change. "When will I meet _your_ fiancé?"

She was thrilled to be on the subject of her love, as all engaged women are, and launched into a long story as to how they met. It was when she was talking about him calling into a radio station that I had an idea: I would write Calus and make sure it got his attention and then I would try to talk about it to someone before the issue went out, and whomever it seemed to spark a flicker of recognition in could be my Calus.

Ok, so it was weak. But it was all I had.

_Dear Calus,_

_I am worried. I mean I am worried about everything; the rain, the sun, heights, kites, being in a big group, being alone, schizophrenia, having a phobia, being too much like everyone else, being too weird. I constantly worry and it really depresses me and makes it difficult to wake up everyday. What should I do?_

_-Worried_

I knew as soon as I sent it in, Calus, whoever he was would snatch it up as it was just pathetic enough, easy enough for him to ridicule, he would have no choice but to reply.

It was only a matter of days.

* * *

Two days later… 

I ran into Snape again in another attempt to elude Lola and dash to the loo. Well, I still had no idea where I was going and ended up in virtually the same area I he'd caught in earlier.

This time, however, he didn't run into me, _I_ ran into _him_.

In all fairness, I actually did try stopping as soon as I saw him but that was just after my face collided with his chest. I immediately peeled myself away and hoped he took my red face as Urgent Need for the Loo and not, you know, embarrassment…which is what it was.

Probably tired of me colliding with him in some form and because I might not have been removing myself from him quick enough, he grabbed my arms in an effort to help me back away. In an I-know-you're-up-to-something smirk, he greeted, "Miss Puckle."

I dusted nonexistent dirt off my skirt in an effort to wait out my blushing. When I was sure that my face was once again pale-bordering-on-albino, I looked back up into that smug face that had haunted my school years (not literally but you know what I mean) and asked, "Professor! Why are you still here?"

His face did that closing thing again before he replied that he was doing a multi-part interview. As he spoke, I marveled at how much he'd changed. I mean, his hair, face, clothes, were all still the same, but he just had a different air about him. I don't mean that he was any less frightening or ornery, but he just seemed less…I don't know. I want to say depressed but that would imply that he moped about. Defensive, there you go; he seemed less snappish. And his eyes! Once hollow pools of darkness, they now seemed to be, well, alive. Like there was an actual person looking out at you.

All these poetic-type realizations flew through my mind in the space of his answer. Lucky I am a quick thinker otherwise I probably would have been caught gawping which would lead to insults on his part and flushed skin on mine.

Suddenly Mr. Dennis, the man who'd hired me, was at my side. "Miss Puckle, do you mind if I speak to you off to the side for a moment?" Before I could answer, he looked way up at Snape and informed him, "I just need a moment, Mr. Snape, then you can have her back."

"To the side" meant literally to the other side of the hallway. When we'd reached where he wanted to stop, he sighed up at me. "Miss Puckle—Lucy—we have received the amount you've been editing and, although your work is very thorough and at a good speed, I would like to request that you discontinue making comments on the writers 'voice' and rewording sections. You have good ideas, but it is angering my journalists."

I don't think he was a man that liked confrontation because he spoke to my feet the entire time.

I honestly hadn't really realized I'd been doing that because at _The Quibbler_, I was my own editor and would do the same to my work. I apologized and promised to stop.

He seemed pleased and accepted it before leaving.

I turned to return to Snape (and say what, I don't know) but I found Lola talking to him and two things hit me at once.

Wonderment on how she always managed to find me. Did she have spies throughout the building or some radar? And

What she was saying to him: "You know…" she said, holding all of her weight on one leg, swinging a tiny (though not tinier than my) hip out. "Lucy's been kind of clammed up about your relationship. Tell me, how is it that you went from being her professor to her boyfriend?"

I could not see Snape's face but I'm pretty sure it was caked in confusion. At least that's how his voice came out. "I don't know what—"

I sprang into action and grabbed him by the arm, cutting him off. To Lola, I asked sweetly, "Excuse us, won't you? I have to speak with Severus here on important matters." Without awaiting an answer, I yanked him through the nearest door.

We wound up in someone's office—a large one with wooden paneling and the most vast desk I'd ever seen with a large chair and books lining almost the entire room—which was thankfully empty. The only sign of someone actually being in there recently was a few scattered papers on the desk, each paper containing writing in different handwritings. That was the good news.

The bad news was that Snape no longer looked confused. In fact, he seemed to be fully enjoying himself as he leaned against the desk with his arms folded and looked down at me in that way people do at a person when you know they have something on you. His thin lips barely parted as he asked, "Is there a reason you've been telling people that you are dating me?" Before I could try to explain that someone jumped to some conclusions after seeing us together—the truth, just not all of it—he continued, "That small woman wasn't the first, either. Mr. Dennis also commented on how good we looked together. I had taken it as madness on his part but now I learn it was your doing. Why?"

I was defeated; I admit it. But then inspiration struck. Maybe, just maybe, I could get Snape to play along. I had no advantage, or anything to entice him but I was certain I could find something.

This confidence was quite alarming. Apparently, I hadn't escaped the Gryffindor's Large Head syndrome as I'd thought.

Rats.

"I needed it for cover-up." I told him finally.

"Why would dating me keep you from being discovered as a fraud?"

I got defensive at that. "Fraud? I'm not a fraud; I am _undercover_."

Groaning in a my-students-are-dreadfully-thick way, Professor Snape unleaned himself from the desk, sauntered ever so slowly over to where I stood with my back against the door and put one hand on it by my head. He had to bend over slightly in order to level our gazes but when he did, the intensity of his nearly gave me a headache. In that abnormally deep voice of his, he commanded, "Don't skirt around the issue, Miss _Puckle_, and answer the question."

So I explained Lola's need to gossip and how, to keep her from snooping for my history, I had to give her something to satisfy her craving. Me, having an affair with an older man, especially the tall, dark, and mysterious hero Snape was, would do just that…keep her entertained for a while.

As soon as I was done, he pushed himself off the wall and stepped back. As if I were an experimental breed of human, he studied me in an almost clinical way, tapping his chin with his forefinger. Finally, after what seemed like hours of me fidgeting under his gaze, he said, "Actually, this ploy of yours might also be of assistance to me. So, for that reason, I will play along."

I was so thrilled I nearly hugged him, but managed to restrain myself. He changed the subject almost abruptly and inquired after my plan to discover Calus' identity.

I shrugged. "All I have is to write him a letter, one I knew would capture his notice and casually bring up the subject of my letter to various people and study their reactions. This would have to be before the next issue came out."

"What are you going to write about?"

"I already did," I beamed with pride. "It was something along the lines of a person with an all-sorts paranoia or phobia."

Then he did that odd analytical study of me again, from my head to my feet and back, as if trying to figure where he'd seen me before or something. There was a look on his face that reminded me of when someone sees his or her dog has learnt a new trick without being taught. After another hour of me trying to wonder what one is supposed to do when one is being stared at so boldly, he looked at the grandfather clock in the corner and said, "You'd better go since your break is nearly over."

How nice. And if my break weren't nearly over, would he have continued staring?

I nodded mutely and turned the knob to exit, Snape following behind.

As I'd suspected, Lola had planted her feet right there to wait for me. It's a good thing all the offices here were soundproof otherwise she might have heard.

At least I _thought_ they were soundproof. The ones at _The Quibbler_ headquarters were.

She is quite as abusive as Ginny and immediately gripped my arm in an alarmingly strong grip and practically dragged me down the hall. When we were far enough from Snape (or so she thought, because I had a feeling he hadn't lost that talent he had of appearing out of nowhere catching you talking about/doing something you weren't suppose to), she hissed, "Can I be nosy?"

I almost replied, "Can I read?" since, you know, if I said that she couldn't be nosy, I knew she wouldn't stop, but I kept it to myself and only nodded.

"Why did you have to pull him away like that? Was I not supposed to know you two were together?"

Time to start my horrible lying thing. Let's just hope Lola's as gullible as I'd suspected. "Erm…Yeah, you see, we, er…that is…we were trying to, erm, you know, keep our relationship secret, you see?" Not bad. "I, er, had to tell him that I, eh, that you knew and wouldn't tell a soul."

She nodded and went on to say how we, Snape and I, reminded her of her and her boyfriend Stephen in the "early years."

How lucky am I to have found a gullible gossiper that could easily be distracted by mention of her love? Quite.

* * *

A/N: AAaahhh. That felt good to get out of there. Alright, so we have Snape now. Sorry for any OOCness there. But I tried to keep him as Cannon as possible. His horoscope says he has good humour, you know. (he's cancer, by the way)

So review please!

My betas have saved me from making an arse out of myself. Loads of love to you two!

Next Chappie...In which we find Calus...


	5. Suspect

Disclaimer: if you are under the assumption that I am J. K. Rowling, then you are also under the influence of drugs.

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Suspect

I found him! I found Calus, I think!

Oh, what a brilliant day out it was. I should have known, suspected, that my life would be going well that morning since it was uncharacteristically warm and sunny out for a spring day in England…or for any day in England, for that matter.

And I didn't even have to try to find him; he practically raised his hand and introduced himself.

I was walking to the cafeteria alone since Lola had to take the day off to celebrate Stephen's birthday and was worrying about where I'd sit. Although I didn't need any company, I didn't want to sit at a table where I was unwanted and, if I sat at the wrong table, could end up taking up my entire break with small talk. Uncomfortable, awkward, how's-your-day-and-the-weather-and-what-are-your-hobbies type of talk.

I did find a table occupied by someone who looked like he wanted to be left alone. An older man, maybe eighty, with silvering hair and the thickest spectacles I've seen in my life, had his nose buried in a book and a constant scowl set on his face.

Perfect.

I sat across from him and said nothing. He didn't even glance up so for all I knew, he wasn't even aware I'd joined the table.

That is, until, maybe twenty minutes later, he said something.

"Are you familiar with psychology?" His eyes never left the pages and for a second, I wondered whether he was talking to the book or me. I must have hesitated too long because he suddenly did look up at me and frowned. "Are you hard of hearing or just a bit slow?"

How kind of him to ask.

I felt myself get a bit huffy but squashed it down. "I am," I replied but then realized he must have thought I meant I was slow…or hard of hearing, so I elaborated. "I'm familiar with psychology. My uncle—"

"I don't need your life story," he snapped and breathed deeply, releasing a whistling sound with his nose.

"I wasn't giving it to you." Bastard.

He went on as if I'd said nothing. "It really irks me when they make up these 'disorders…'" he made air quotes with his fingers. " Like the fear of heights--Bloody hell, everyone is afraid of heights; that's not a mental disorder. Or, how about this one, it really irritates me that this is real disorder in their books. "Bibliomania." He snorted. "Ridiculous."

The word was unfamiliar to me and so I couldn't help asking what it was.

He looked at me as if I'd asked what magic was. He then shoved his book across to me, nearly knocking over my drink, and pointed to an entry.

It read:

_**Bibliomania**_

_Bibliomania is a rare but nasty mental disorder. A patient with Bibliomania exhibits obsessive-compulsive tendencies, such as excessively organizing things, along with the compulsion to collect books, whether or not it is in the patient's interest or capacity of understanding. This force to collect these books can sometimes get in the way of the patients social or work life._

Eerie as it sounds, that pretty much described me.

Perfect, brilliant; I'm a nutter.

I was just about to sink into depression when my new friend suddenly said, taking his book back, "And I recently read about a girl that had every phobia, _including_ being _phobic!_ How idiotic to be afraid of everything! That woman must be horribly disturbed."

I very nearly hugged him. A _girl_ afraid of everything?? He was talking about my letter! He was Calus!

With all the dignity in the building, I calmly said, "Well, I'm Lucy. What's your name?"

He looked hard at me before saying, "My…you're a cheeky tart, aren't you?"

I was so happy I let the tart thing pass. "I'm not looking to date you, I promise."

"Then I'm Caleb."

Caleb…Calus…can you get anymore perfect?

However, I couldn't just come out and say, "I know you, you're Calus!" could I? His identity was supposed to be a secret and I definitely couldn't reveal it to anyone. So maybe I could...well, use my feminine wiles. I'd never used my feminine wiles on anyone and had never been that great at seducing people. Therefore, I couldn't try to get the truth and an exclusive yet. I would have to learn how to tempt men properly.

Where could I find a how-to to seduction?

The bookstore.

* * *

A/N: You can learn anything from a book, can't you? 

Sweets to my betas, both of you alarmingly bright.

Oh, and dear readers, please review! I want to know what YOU think!

Next Chappie...Hermione gets the truth out of Caleb and Snape laughs (!!!)...


	6. Seducing Calus

Disclaimer: Sadly, I am making no money off of this. So, JKR, if you wish to sue, all you will recieve are a million books, which is all I have.

* * *

Seducing Calus

_Readers, this is a special column I'm doing, on a conversation I had with a woman earlier. As you lot know, I have a speaking glass, the mate of which is at the headquarters of _The Daily Prophet _and anyone can come in and have a one-on-one conversation with me and that is what this woman did. I will not bore you any more and get on to the conversation._

_**Woman: Calus? Calus is that you?**_

_Me: No, it is I, the Great and Powerful God._

_**Oh…oh, you're being sarcastic aren't you?**_

_Bloody hell, woman, just get on with the reason for wanting to talk to me or put the glass down and walk away._

_**Oh, you! I just wanted to say that I am a Muggle-born—**_

_You just wanted to tell me of your lineage._

_**No, I wanted to say that I absolutely love you; I'm your biggest fan.**_

_Oh, you are, are you? _

_**(Giggling) I am, I love you.**_

_You said that already. Now, can I ask you a question?_

_**What?**_

_A question. Are you thick?_

_**I'm so excited to actually be talking to you. I read your column religiously. Did I say that you are my hero?**_

_Why?_

_**Why, what?**_

_Why am I your hero? Why do you like me so much?_

_**I don't know…**_

_You love me and you don't know why? Do you read my column?_

_**Of course. How else would I know who you are?**_

_And you love me._

_**(More giggling) I adore you.**_

_But what about me do you adore?_

_**I don't know…**_

_You have to know why you love me! You cannot love someone and not know why; they cannot be your hero for unknown reasons. Now, I ask you again Miss, what is it about me that compels you to read my column so religiously and proclaim yourself my largest fan? Is it my bluntness?_

_**No, it's not that.**_

_Is it that I say anything I want?_

_**No.**_

_My attitude?_

_**I think you are quite rude actually. You could be a bit nicer, you know.**_

_Sadly, readers, this is how the rest of the conversation went. I hate people who claim to be my fans because I always get the same reply: none of them seems to know why it is they like me so much. Are you lot just a bunch of masochistic witches and wizards? Is that it? Do you like to be insulted?_

_Readers, I must let this article be an order; don't ever tell me you are my fan again without first having a reason._

I found a book called _The Complete Duffer's Guide to Making Any Twit Fall in Love with You_ that seemed like it would suit my needs.

I already decided to do a thing they called "glued eyes". What it is, is this. You look at a bloke across a room (the cafeteria would do fine) and make eye contact with the bloke. Then turn your head while keeping your eyes riveted on his until the last moment when your eyes are hurting. Then count to five and glance back at him.

I wanted to try this out on someone first before moving onto Caleb/Calus.

When I was walking into the building, there was a bloke standing outside smoking a fag. I did the glued eyes on him and his fag nearly dropped out of his mouth. Then with eyes glazed over, he came klutzily over to me.

"Hello there."

Glued eyes are what _The Complete Duffer's Guide to Making Any Twit Fall in Love with You _said you should do to reel 'em in. The other thing to seal the deal is, while there talking, start looking at their eyes then glance sloooowly down to their mouth, up to the eyes, back down to the chest, up to the eyes and back until you land on his trouser snake.

I know: EW.

But I did so while Klutz told me his name and after I hit the snake, I swear he was going to melt.

A success!

Now to get out of there before I lead him on any further…

Neither glued eyes nor the up-down-to-trouser-snake worked on Caleb/Calus.

I sat with Lola in lunch and tried it inconspicuously across the café while she told me another riveting (ha!) tale of how he and her fiancé's first date went. I did glued eyes and when C/C finally looked up, it was to eye me as though I were a complete mad woman. I proceeded on the second one but, because he was sitting at a table, I couldn't see his trouser snake (not that it was hanging out or anything. I mean where it should have been) as it was covered by the table. So it possibly looked like I was eyeing his food. At least if his pointing to the sweets counter and mouthing that that was where he got it was anything to go by.

Thankfully, _The Complete Duffer's Guide to Making Any Twit Fall in Love with You_ is more than two pages long so it had more.

For those particularly tough men, or in case of emergency-

So if there's a fire, you grab the nearest bloke and snog him within an inch of his life? _That_ kind of emergency?

There is another method, only to be used cautiously, mind you. This may call for a lot of lip balm as it can require the licking of the lips.

Call attention to your mouth. You can do this by licking your lips, nibbling your bottom lip, applying lip balm, chewing chuddie and blowing a bubble, etc.

If near him, make sure you have at least one body part touching him at all times. This will remind him that you are there and don't let him forget it!

Now the dangerous part. If you are not serious about catching this man, I would highly suggest you refrain from doing this last step. Now, that said, here's what you do: get somewhere alone with him and start leaning into him and rubbing his chest, shoulder, etc. then coo how much you've been looking at him and so on. Finally, snog him before he can say no!

Ok, Caleb was not what I looked for in a snogging partner, or even friend for that matter as he didn't seem to be very nice and wasn't much of a looker either. However, I was desperate. I needed him to admit who he was and give me an interview. And possibly meet Ginny so she could see what a mistake she'd made fancying him.

My opportunity came about a week later when I had (again) made an excuse to use the loo to avoid Lola's boring tales. And wouldn't you know it; I ended up in the same corridor I always found myself.

And who else was there but Caleb/Calus! I found him leaned against a wall studying a sheet of paper so intently you'd think it was giving him prophecies.

"Caleb?" I smiled my warmest smile as if he were the highlight of my day. "Remember me?"

He glanced over at me and exhaled hard through his nose. "The one who didn't know what bibliomania was, right?"

Bastard.

I gestured to a familiar-looking door, the one Snape and I had slipped into to talk.

"Listen, can I talk to you alone?"

His pale eyes looked at me blankly. "We're alone now, aren't we?"

Difficult man! I batted my eyes and hoped he would take the hint. "Well, we need to be _more_ alone, if you don't mind."

Finally, he relented but only, I think, because he thought I was completely off my rocker. As soon as we were in, I closed the door.

Swallowing down a bit of vomit, I leaned my body into him.

"So, I've been watching you for a while now and I must say you're very intriguing."

I would have cracked up at the look on his face had I not been trying to act like a naughty minx, aka Lavender Brown. I do think I will always remember it and it made the deed a little more bearable.

I went on, trailing my finger along his squishy chest. "And I think I caught you looking at me as well."

The colour of his face could not be replicated by magic. He gulped, his large Adam's apple bouncing up and down like a bouncy thing. "I-I-I…I don't know wh-what you're talk-talking about."

Ugh, this is so disgusting. "Oh, I think you do. And I know a secret. About you."

His eyes went really wide. "You do?"

I nodded. Time for the bomb. "I know who you _really_ are."

He didn't say anything but only stared at my nose as if it just turned into a very ferocious lion.

"You are Calus." I nodded for reference. "I know it is your secret identity."

Now his face was a complete question mark. "I believe you are mistaken."

"I don't think so. Come on, just come out with it. You are Calus. You have the same disposition and you even mentioned a letter I wrote to him...you. The girl who feared everything?"

He shook his head furiously now, his nervousness gone. "I swear, I'm not. I read that in Calus' article." He thrust the paper he had been reading in my hand. "Look. I was trying to see who he was also."

The paper seemed to be from a sort of fan club of Calus' and had speculations as to Calus' identity and location.

Just as I, still leaning provocatively against Caleb/NOTCalus, was realizing what a doofus I was and really wishing I had one of those special permits that allows you to Disapparate from The Leaky Cauldron headquarters, I heard a voice behind me ask, "Am I interrupting something?"

Oh, I recognized the voice but really hoped I was wrong. I turned slowly around.

I was right. It was Snape. And he seemed to be trying, without much success, to keep from smiling.

I opened my mouth to reply (and say what, I do not know) when I felt Caleb tug on my arm. His paper suddenly blocked my vision as he hissed into my ear, "They think Calus' office is right where we are. That bloke could be Calus!"

I shook my head. "He's not; he's a friend of mine."

Caleb straightened up. Staring straight ahead and not meeting either my or Snape's gazes, claimed he had business and left in a hurry, closing the door tightly behind him.

Leaving me alone with Snape. Peachy.

He leaned against the door, his hair falling into his eyes making it impossible for me to see them clearly, but said nothing, only grinning very annoyingly.

After about five hours, he asked softly, "I don't mean to pry, but he doesn't seem like your type."

I don't know what came over me but I just couldn't hold it any longer. I blurted out the entire mortifying story to him. I said, "Lola was gone so I had so sit somewhere where I wouldn't have to endure small talk because I hate small talk and the only non-small-talking person seemed to be that bloke. And he mentioned my letter--the one I told you I wrote to Calus, he even seemed like the Calus type, to top it all off, his name was Caleb, and that was a lot like Calus so I decided he was him, you know? I had to get the truth from him somehow and I figured I could use my feminine charms and even went out and bought a book, _The Complete Duffer's Guide to Making Any Twit Fall in Love with You _and it told me to do glued eyes but that didn't work and neither did the trouser snake thing so I did the third, in-case-of-emergencies one and that's what I was doing but I found out that Caleb was looking for Calus also and I was wrong and hit on the wrong guy who I would not have gone anywhere near in any other case and—why are you laughing?"

I had never, in my entire life seen Snape laugh and had I not been so furious at being laughed _at_, I would have noticed how nice it was to hear his laugh.

He was laughing so hard that he had to clutch the doorknob to keep from falling over. "You…" he gasped. "You tried to seduce him!"

I glowered down at him with all my power. "I hardly believe it is that funny."

"Are you certain it's Miss Weasley and not _you_ who fancies him?"

"Would you stop, kindly?"

He collected himself and once again became the non-laughing professor I knew and loved. Or at least pretended to love so as not to draw attention to myself. He said, "When I made certain your letter was in the article, I had expected entertainment but surely not on this level."

"What do you mean you 'made certain my letter was in the article'?" I demanded in a voice that reminded me alarmingly of my mum.

He went on as if I hadn't spoken. "Next time, it would be highly advisable if you spoke with me of any suspects you might have unless you want another repeat of today."

I didn't move one centemetre. "What do you mean you 'made certain my letter was in the article'?" I repeated.

He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed as he informed me calmly, "Miss Granger, I know who Calus is."

_Whaaat?_ "WHAT?!" I wanted to hit him. "How long?"

While I had only dark looks for him, he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

"The entire time."

"And you let me make a fool out of myself? Why didn't you tell me? You knew what I was trying to do!"

He looked rather pleased with himself, the bastard. "One, it was promising to be quite the show."

I growled. He smiled.

"I'm also sworn to secrecy. If I tell anyone, I could get sacked."

Bewilderment replaced fury. "Get sacked? From Hogwarts?"

Not answering, he went on. "Look on the bright side. At least it was me who caught you and not your friend Lola."

I have the most self-control of anyone I know because no one else would have been able to keep from turning him into a toad that would definitely not be snogged by a fair princess.

I still said, "Well, of course _you_ would know Calus is, you're two feathers of a bird or whatever. How is it you found out who he was?"

"He's the one interviewing me. For his column."

The math appeared in my head.

**Me **** Snape **** Calus**

I was only one degree away from knowing Calus personally and the man to help me, possibly my only hope, was the largest arse in the world. But I had to do something.

"Professor, couldn't you just please tell me who he is?"

"No."

"I won't even write the article or anything! I'll just use my knowledge to tell Ginny! And she's good at keeping secrets! Not at all like Lola!"

"No."

"You must!"

One inky black eyebrow went straight up. "And if I don't?" he countered. "What are you going to do then? Seduce me?"

Ok, I won't even lie but that thought _did_ cross my mind. Not that I though it would work or anything but it was an idea and Snape was a man. Oh, _and_ you know, I'm probably suppose to add that I don't even find him attractive. This is the truth.

Kind of.

Maybe.

I would never actually admit this to him though as he would probably laugh even more. So I kept my air of dignity about me and smiled my best swotty smile. "Give me three good reasons why you can't tell me, please professor. Aside from your getting sacked, which I don't understand."

He actually seemed to be thinking it over for a minute before finally replying, in a way that reminded me of back when he was my professor in both the tone and the way he quite literally ignored my question. "Miss Granger, that book you have, the _Twit_ book is complete rubbish."

If he was trying to derail me with the change of subject, it worked. Because I could only blink and ask, "How do you mean?" Sometimes I have an extra-long attention span and others; my span is about that of Ron's.

He practically flew over to me and, in a half-heartbeat, had his hands on each side of my hips on the desk (why did he keep doing that?) making me feel a bit nervous. As with the last time we had been in this position, he deepened his voice and, as if he flipped a switch, intensified his gaze. I was really beginning to wonder if he was using Legilimency on me.

The corners of his lips curled up and he told me, "You don't need to do all this drivel to seduce a man. All you have to do is shove a man against a wall and kiss him passionately."

I was getting seduction tips from Professor Snape! Oh, I was fully going to have to come clean with my Find Calus plan with Gin so I could tell her _this_. Who would believe that I've been having these conversations with him? I mean, _really_, before then the only talking we did was me giving him answers to questions and him assigning detention, insulting me or my friends, taking house points, or telling me I was out of place. Imagine if someone like…Filch came and had a heart-to-heart with me. Now **that** would be odd.

"And no man," he continued in that rich voice he had, "would be able to refuse the attention of a beautiful woman."

Now how was I supposed to respond to that? Somehow, I didn't think "Thanks for the advice" would cut it. So I only gawped at him—something I've been doing a lot lately.

He suddenly straightened up and looked at the door. "That friend of yours is outside looking for you. She wants to ask you something."

I was just about to ask him how he knew this (See? Attention span like a goldfish, I swear) when I suddenly heard her tiny voice say to someone, "Have you seen Lucy? I want to ask her something."

I walked over to the door and opened it. She was talking to Roy, an older man, about eighty-five, from Games. She spun around with a large smile on her face. "Lucy, there you are! And Severus also. I'm glad to catch you two together." She smirked in an I-caught-you-with-your-hand-in-the-cookie-jar sort of way. "I figured you'd snuck off to spend time with your lover."

I suddenly felt an arm around my waist. I looked up to see Snape holding me to his side, staring straight ahead no matter how hard I eyed him, unsuccessfully willing him to meet my gaze. I'd almost forgotten about our act of being in love but apparently, he hadn't. I wrapped my arm around his waist and tried to act as if it were the most normal thing in the world. And it wasn't, but for some reason, it did feel normal, as if we were meant to stand like that.

And let me tell you, in Snape's half-embrace? Not so bad. In fact, half of me (ok, _all_ of me) hoped that whatever she had to say would take a while.

Lola was beginning to go into how she and Stephen used to do the same thing (sneak off together not wrap their arms around each other. Although I'm sure they did that as well) so I interjected, "You wanted to ask me something?"

"Oh, yes, actually. I wanted to ask both of you out to dinner tonight. See, Stephen won dinner for four at The Frog Prince and I thought it would be fun to have a double date. You know…Steve, Severus, you, and me. That way we could get to know each other."

I knew Snape wasn't going to agree to the dinner (and frankly the thought of watching Lola and Stephen make kissy faces at each other was enough to turn my stomach) but I didn't want to just flat-out say no. But my mind was working quickly and I replied, "Actually, I think we might have to do something tonight but why don't I talk with Severus and I will let you know when lunch is over, alright?"

Her grin didn't falter for one moment as she nodded energetically. "Lovely. I'll see you in a bit." Then to Snape, "And you later."

As soon as she'd disappeared around the corner, Snape turned to me. "What, you don't want to go?"

"I didn't think you'd want to, actually."

He shrugged and his eyes darkened as if a cloud had passed in front of them; he was closing up again. "She asked us to dinner because she doubts the authenticity of our relationship."

Oh, no. "She does? But _how_?"

He talked to my feet. "We just haven't shown enough affection or 'acted like a couple'."

Wait. "How do you know all this?"

"Legilimency," was his simple reply.

"You used Legilimency on her?" I scolded. "Isn't that an invasion of privacy?"

"It is, but I wanted to see her motive." He added, "If I hadn't done it, we never would have known that our act isn't as seamless as one might have thought. In her eyes, we don't act like a couple."

"So, you think this dinner would put the doubt from her mind?"

"Maybe not completely, but it would be a nice push. Unless you don't want to," he added, still staring at my feet. Why wouldn't he look at me today?

I thought about that. "Well, I honestly don't fancy watching them batting their eyelashes and calling each other 'Snookums' or 'LoveDove' or whatever hideous names they came up with. But I don't need anyone doubting who I am and it _is_ a free meal. So, if you don't mind, I'll tell her we'll be there."

And then he smiled. And not sardonically or patronizingly but an actual genuine smile. It was far more attractive than it should have been, by all laws of physics or whatever. Quite like a coat of paint on drab walls…just brightened his face right up and I hardly recognised it. "Well, we'll have to get the time so, you ask her and I'll meet you after you get off. What time is that?"

"Three."

And it was set. Lola told me dinner was at seven and after I told Snape, I set out to tell Ginny.

* * *

A/N: If anyone has seen Talk Radio, that's where I got the ideas for Calus' articles.

My betas are brilliant

My betas are great

If I didn't have them

Then that would not be great (my rhyming is atrocious!)

Oh please read and review but disregard my above poem!

Next chappie...Bloody feet!


	7. My Date With The Greasy Git

DISCLAIMER

Oh, twere it that

I had many of riches

I would not be on this site

writing about someone else's witches.

* * *

My Date with the Greasy Git

"What?"

That was all Ginny could seem to get out after I told her about my sting operation to get Calus.

"There's more," I said. "Snape was there; I ran into him and had to explain why Lola was calling me Lucy. Otherwise, you know, he probably would have exposed my cover. Then Lola asked me if Snape and I were a couple."

We were sitting on Ginny's porch, on the steps, just out of the rain. Harry was with Ron, Fred, and George at their shop. Ginny had been dressed in jimjams when I'd opened the door and hadn't gotten out of them since.

She now looked at me with child-like shock. "How on earth did she figure you and Snape were dating? And what was he doing there? Don't tell me he works there too."

"No, actually, he is getting interviewed by Calus himself. In a multi-part interview of sorts. But I cannot get him to give me Calus' identity. You know how stubborn and mean he can be.

"I told Lola that we _were_ together in order to keep her from searching my background for information, for dirt. And I tried to keep it from Snape but she ended up talking to him. I did however, manage to get to him before he revealed anything and he even agreed to play along. We're even going out to dinner with Lola and Stephen tonight."

She breathed, "Whoa. I'm surprised he agreed with this!" Then her mind switched courses. "You said you thought you found the identity of Calus?"

Ugh. The part I really didn't want to tell. But she _was_ my friend. "Now, this was before he told me that he knew who Calus was." Then I explained the entire bloody thing up until Snape had walked in on us. "You won't believe it but Snape, after laughing at me, informed me on how to properly seduce a man."

She laughed with me for a split second before suddenly stopping, thinking about it a bit, and asking, "What exactly did he say?"

"He said,"—I tried to deepen my voice the way he had but it was not quite there.

"'All you have to do is shove a man against a wall and kiss him passionately.' Then he added that 'no man would be able to refuse the attention of a beautiful woman.' As if he read my mind on what if the bloke rejected me because I was too strong or something."

The thing was, Ginny seemed more interested in what Snape had said than anything else. She said, "Were those his exact words? ' no man would be able to refuse the attention of a beautiful woman'?"

"Yeah, so?"

She stared forward. "Whoa." Then to me; "Are you _positive_ that's what he said?"

What was she on about? "_Yes_, Ginny, that is really what he said. I am 100 on this."

"What was he doing when he said this?"

Oh, blimey. "Conjuring ducks. Bloody hell, Gin, what do you think he was doing?"

She didn't laugh at my joke but was suddenly Miss Serious Knickers and demanded, "No, I need you to describe _exactly_ what he was doing: how he was standing, what he was doing with his hands…_everything_."

Oh, what the hedge, I decided to humour her. I drew up the memory in my mind and spoke about what I saw. "He, er, was leaning against the desk, his hands on each side of me kind of trapping me in. Erm…his eyes were highly…I guess _piercing_ is the only way to describe it, and his voice went very deep and…his hair was hanging in his eyes. Now is that satisfactory or do you want me to describe the décor as well?"

She almost numbly shook her head as she smiled. "Wow, I just cannot believe…Are you _certain_ those were his exact—"

"Would you just tell me what you are on about before I set your hair on fire!"

She sighed. "Ok, now I am not certain—well, I am. I'm 82 positive he complemented you. I think he called you beautiful."

Now it was my turn to laugh. The mere thought was absurd! _Snape_ call me beautiful. He never complemented anyone, not even himself! "Gin, I think you've been reading far too many romance novels. How, in Merlin's name, did you come to that ridiculous conclusion?"

She was determinably serious about her statement, making me doubt her sanity.

"No, Hermione, I'm not kidding; I can tell with these things."

Oh, dear, she was beginning to sound like Lola.

She went on like a mad person, "He first instructed you on how to seduce a man and _then_ added that no man would be able to resist a beautiful woman. He was talking about you; _you_ are beautiful!"

"He did not say that," I countered matter-of-factly.

"He didn't say that no man would—"

I groaned. "Well, yes, he did say _that_ but I am sure he didn't mean that _I_ am beautiful…"

"Then why did he say it?" she countered.

"It was probably an accident."

"How do you accidentally say something?"

Oh, she was confusing me and so I stood up. "You know, I have things to do before we go on the date."

She suddenly leapt up. "Who said it was a date? You or Snape?"

"Actually _Lola_ did. You aren't going to go around trying to play matchmaker, are you? Because I thought you'd left that behind along with your single-hood. And furthermore, I really don't think this one would work out." I saw her open her mouth to argue so I raised my voice and hurried my words. "_Regardless _of your so-called 'perfect score'."

"What makes you think you and Snape wouldn't work out?" Asked the Mad Mobile innocently.

Whaaaat? "What do you mean—do you _remember_ who Severus Snape is? About yay tall in all black and, oh, don't forget, an extreme loathing of all things A, Gryffindor, and B, related in anyway to Harry Potter. Need I add that he is a very solitary man who hates emotion of any kind? Now before this madness catches, I am going to take my leave and do what I need to do."

"I will only allow you to leave so long as you promise to tell me everything that happened on the date."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll do better. If you promise to stop this insane setting-Snape-and-me-up, I'll just send you the memory, alright?"

It was enough for her to release me (albeit, a little hesitantly) and I went to my flat to do things I really didn't have to do.

About an hour before the dinner (for I was never going to call it a date again, even in my head, for fear of Ginny trying to convince me that Snape and I are "meant to be" or what other nonsense she chooses to come up with), I was beginning to worry. I mean, what does one wear that says, "I am a woman madly in love with the man beside me and am not a pseudo-reporter in disguise hunting for the identity of the latest fad"? Also, I might add, although I'm not a leper or anything, I rarely date, as men only want raunchy big titted women who are skilled in flirting and lap dances. And I am not talented in either. Furthermore, I'm not the dress and/or skirt type girl, as I tend to feel very exposed and naked. Plus I have ghastly white legs that absolutely refuse to tan, regardless of any jinxes or potions I might try. My stomach is the same way, which explains my no-bikini policy. That, and the fact that I have less curves than a twig.

What dresses I _did_ have were for church that my parents had always insisted on dragging me to (where they yelled at me for reading during the sermon. Is it my fault that the preacher telling us, 'God and Jesus are there for us and those that do not accept Them are going to be in Hell when They come,' repeatedly gets just a touch boring?). But I really didn't want to look like a choirgirl…or a nun.

I did have a resource that I could easily obtain: my neighbour, Ellen.

Ellen was a pretty good acquaintance of mine that I'd met my first day at my new flat, a few months ago. Originally, from America, she was a tad behind on our lingo and culture, to which I aided her being acquainted with. She was a lot like Ginny in her constant pursuit of men (although Ginny did quit that as soon as Harry snogged her in sixth year) and her bubbliness. She's a lot like me in her love of books and horrible hair (air thin). Somehow, though, she was born with one of those I-can-talk-to-anyone genes…and more breastly/hipply genes.

I rang her and she picked up on the first ring, as if she'd been expecting me.

"Ellen, its Hermione. Listen, I have a date to go to at seven and I've nothing to wear."

"Don't worry," assured her husky voice in my ear. "I'll be right over with some dresses and skirts. Do you need shoes?"

As I stood in front of my wardrobe, my eyes fell onto my one pair of heeled shoes, the ones I wore to the Yule Ball. They were the same turquoise my dress had been but now had horrible scuffmarks all over them along with a grass stain on the left toe. My other shoes were all flat but had been donated by my grandmum. I don't feel I have to elaborate on the state of those.

As if she could see right through the phone, Ellen said, "I'll grab those too. See you in a bit!" Then the phone went dead. That's the thing with Ellen; she talks really fast and is a bit impatient awaiting a reply.

I walked out of my room and into my living room to find her already there, dumping what looked like several clothes-stores worth of eveningwear and about a dozen shoes.

And then I couldn't see. Because Ellen, all five-eight of her, enveloped me in a spine snapping, hug and let out a shriek that hit a note not commonly made by a mammal, or even within a mammal's abilities. She stepped back and held me at arms length, admiring me proudly. "Finally, a date for you! About time, girl! Now, what are we going to do with you?" She circled me slowly as an interior designer would a room. She pulled a bit at my hair, had me raise my arms, stand on my toes, wriggle my fingers, all the while she appraised me. "I think a cami with a bit of lace on it would do for the top as you have nice shoulders that deserve to be shown off. Ditto on the collarbones. Something light and airy for the skirt that shows off your femininity. I'm thinking red to catch this guy, er, _bloke's_ attention and heighten his passion. No, too fierce for your skin tone and pink would only make you look like a piece of gum…maybe a nice sunny yellow with pink accents. The shoes…Oh! I have a new pair of white stilettos that would go beautifully with the ensemble. Now, for the makeup…"

I looked down in alarm to where she had been crouched near my feet. "I said nothing about makeup."

She ignored me, shoved a light silk skirt and white and pink top in my arms, and practically threw me into my room.

I swear the fabric on the skirt was so thin; I was surprised it wasn't completely transparent. Although it did, somehow, manage to make me appear as if I had hips. And the top, I think, was full of static because it clung to me like a second skin, bringing out my (lack of) bosom.

I opened the door and told Ellen, who was rifling through her makeup bag and pulling out torture devices, that I didn't think the outfit worked.

She looked at me as if I was the thickest person in England and exclaimed, "What are you talking about? You look gorgey! Now, sit here so that I may do your hair and makeup."

No matter my protests, I found myself in my computer chair with half my hair pinned up and the rest getting de-frizzed. I do not know how she managed this but it worked and my hair no longer was in danger of blotting out the sun. She also managed to pin some of my hair back in such a way that make me look feminine. I know...I was surprised at that last bit also.

After that, it was all a nightmare of mascara, lippy, foundation, concealer, blush, lipliner, eyeliner, and, horrors upon horrors, faux eyelashes. I really had to draw the line at having spider like things put on my eyes.

"But your eyelashes are so _thin_!" she whined unattractively. "And so short!"

I could not be persuaded and so she agreed instead to add more mascara for volume.

Then came the "curler". An eyelash-curler is this medieval looking device that one uses to squeeze eyelashes so that they curved upward.

When I asked Ellen why, she coolly replied, after instructing me to quit blinking so much, "It opens up your eyes more."

_Brilliant,_ I thought, _Now I'll look like an owl on steroids. Snape is going to have a holiday with this._

She then added _more_ mascara as the curler took some off. Which made me wonder, if she knew the curler was going to take some off, why didn't she curl _before_ applying the mascara? She had no comment.

So after about four tubes of mascara, she proclaimed me complete and allowed me to run to the mirror to eye her artistry.

I will admit that the fact that there was about five kilograms of makeup on did not show at all. In fact, I still looked like myself but only with eyes that are more noticeable and a dewy-looking complexion. I was impressed; I looked quite pretty.

I thanked Ellen and she left with her clothes...about four seconds before there was a knock on the door that made me jump in shock. The landing was a bit painful as I was standing in shoes with toes that squeezed the blood out of my feet despite my many charms to make them roomier.

So I half-hobbled over to the door and opened it. It was just like Snape to be early.

I discovered that Ellen hadn't returned to her flat as I'd thought but only popped outside my door. Snape's back was to me while Ellen asked him every embarrassing question one could possibly think of. And Snape answered all of them with the tiniest traces of sarcasm! I tried to get her attention without getting his but she either ignored me or took no notice. I was forced to listen to the entire horrible exchange.

"How long have you known Hermione?"

"Eleven years."

"You've been dating _eleven_ years! Hermione never told me that."

"No, we weren't dating then. I was still her professor. It would have been against the rules along with every moral code there is."

"So there weren't any late-night 'study sessions'?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I wouldn't take advantage of a student."

"So how _did_ you go from professor to lover?"

"Erm…"

"Wait! I know you! She's talked about you loads! Of course, I've also read the papers. You're Severus Snape, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Yeah…I heard you're a real bastard."

"You probably heard correctly."

"You made students cry?"

"Frequently."

"I heard you were an unfair teacher."

"In some opinions, I suppose I was."

Silence and I thought it was over. But no, she was only thinking up her next question.

"So tell me…have you guys ever acted out a fantasy where you give her detention and you guys shag on your desk?"

Ok, forget trying to get her attention, I exclaimed, "Oh, you're here, Professor! Come on in!" Then I grabbed his elbow and yanked him inside, promptly slamming the door shut behind him.

I turned. "Professor, I am really sorry for that. You see, all my friends have suddenly gone mad so please just ignore them, alright? She just…pay no mind to her. People act as if it's a big deal that I am going to have dinner with a person of the male persuasion. Erm…Hello? Professor Snape?"

He had been looking down at me with a half-frightened, half-ill, and all glazed expression and I had the feeling he really wasn't listening to me. "Are you alright?"

He blinked three times and focused on me as if I were a fake tree that just got up and started yodeling. "Oh, no, I'm fine. And no need to appologise. I was enjoying the challenge of her questions."

Hmmm. Maybe Ron's right and he is masochistic. "Right. Well, are you ready to go?"

I didn't wait for an answer but opened my door and walked out. I'd already lost count on how many times I'd embarrassed myself in front of this man in the past two weeks. And I was pretty sure it wasn't over for the night.

Lola was waiting outside The Frog Prince in a slinky white gown, a tall bloke with sandy coloured hair looking down at her as if she were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

At the sight of her, "Severus" wound his arm around my waist and, when I looked up to him, smirked in a way that probably meant, "She will be completely fooled."

Lola whipped around when the-bloke-I-assumed-was-Stephen tapped her on her shoulder.

"Lucy!" To my horror, she started toward me with her arms spread wide…wider than her smile, if possible. Giving me some odd shoulder hug, she exclaimed, "Oh, you look lovely. Stephen, doesn't she look lovely?"

Stephen, who looked as if he'd walked straight out of _Wizard Weekly_, smiled kindly down at me. "You do."

"Thank you," I replied, avoiding Snape's glance as I could already hear his thoughts; _are you going to seduce him, as well?_

Lola beamed at the three of us like a proud mother. "Stephen, this is my coworker and friend, Lucy. And her boyfriend Severus."

Stephen shook my hand and, when he took Severus', asked, "Severus Snape, correct? The bloke that saved us all? I have wanted to meet you terribly. When Lola here told me Lucy's boyfriend was named Severus, I wondered if it was you."

"I hardly feel I saved 'you all' as I only did what Albus wanted and cast the Avada Kedavra," came Snape's easy reply.

Stephen's smile didn't even twitch. "Oh, but you did more than that! You were a spy! A double agent—no, _triple_ agent! You leaked information from the Deatheaters to this "Order" while simultaneously leading Voldemort to believe that you were spying for him, and fooling the rest of the population into thinking the same." He looked at me. "Did he fool you as well?"

"He did." I answered.

"What was it like thinking your professor killed your headmaster?"

I thought back to when, after Luna and I revived Flitwick, he told us that Snape had hexed him. I hardly believed it but when I saw Snape run past with Malfoy and later when Harry told us what happened, I had been furious, to say the least. I cried, not only for Dumbledore's death, but also for the pure heartlessness in which Snape had betrayed his friend, the one person who trusted him. Also, Snape symbolized hope before then, as despite his appearance, mannerism, and past, he was still on our side, our secret weapon. It was all I could think about, even at Bill's and Fleur's wedding. I walked around numb to everything on account of the constant depressing thought on my mind. I do know that if I had encountered Snape during those times, I would have killed him.

_Then, during our scavenging at Godric's Hollow, when Snape had shown up beside Bellatrix Lestrange, whom I was dueling, I was beyond furious. I'd turned my wand on Snape and cast every spell I could think of. In between dodging my spells, Bellatrix had disarmed me and I had fallen, thinking that where I was, was going to be my final resting place, that the last thing I would see was her cold smile alongside a betrayer. I will never forget what she said—_

_"Oh, look Severus," she'd sneered, slowly advancing on me. "Potter's little friend, the one who thinks she's the greatest witch of her age. And we have her at our mercy. Didn't you say she was an annoying little twitch? Well, now we can stamp her out." She'd raised her wand, the Killing Curse already on her lips when there was a sudden flash of green light and she dropped dead, literally. The spell cleared to reveal Snape with his wand out._

_I'd laid there in shock as he'd bent over and picked up my wand. Shoving my wand at me, he'd barked, "I cannot follow you around babysitting you. Be more vigilant from now on." Then he'd stalked off._

_Later Dumbledore showed up and their very tiring scheme had been revealed. I had been more than jubilant at the news, as had all._

I realized that Lola, Stephen, and Snape were all waiting for an answer. So I said, "I was really surprised."

Stephen accepted this and Lola claimed she was hungry so we went into the restaurant. Snape however, kept sliding suspicious looks my way, which I promptly ignored.

The Frog Prince was one of those far-too-expensive restaurants dimly lit by floating candles with harps and violins bewitched to play themselves. The tables were all round and covered in white tablecloths. In the center, there was space for couples to dance.

A grotesquely thin waiter with a mustache that appeared to grow atop his top lip appeared in front of us. In a highly French accent, said, "Welcome to ze Frog Prince. Do you have a rezairvation?"

"Lettico, party of four," said Lola proudly. The concierge looked down his list before going—

"Hm. Well then. Follow me." And so began our date.

There were five courses of Hell. Oh no, the food was spectacular; it was Lola and Stephen. I had the privilege of hearing each tale that Lola had already told me in greater detail along with many more. Occasionally they did ask about Snape's and my relationship, in which I let Snape answer since the one time I did, my reply came out, "Er…you see…this is _good_ soup."

And Snape made our courtship seem almost like a fairy tale. Which, I suppose it was.

**How we began dating:**

"Lucy and I ran into each other about a year ago and we began talking. I asked her to dinner not as a date, just to talk about everything but then she showed up looking gorgeous and I had to ask her on a real date."

**When we knew we were in love:**

Snape: "I fell slowly in love with her; it didn't just happen all at once. No, it was more in the sense that I just suddenly sat up and realized how much I cared about her."

Me (I was surprised I could answer this and even more surprised the lie came easily): "Well, I actually quite fancied him when I was a student and when I dated him and learned more about him, that enamored feeling grew and flourished and, well, I was in love."

**What the "first time" was like:**

"Like a storm: terrifying and exciting at the same time."

**Any habits we find entertaining about the other**:

Snape: "Lucy here frequently embarrasses herself which is very amusing and her blush is rather attractive."

Me (glaring at him and trying not to blush): "Well, I find Severus' ability to er…use Legilimency well—and his tendency to do so commonly--endearing."

The conversation thankfully switched to work-related things. When Stephen was delighting us with tales of being a band manager when I suddenly felt Snape's leg touch mine lightly as he shifted in his seat.

All my senses went on high alert at the feel of his warm calf against mine. I'd never before paid attention to men's legs, really, and it was now that I realised how…distracting they could be. And I didn't know whether he'd placed his leg there on purpose (probably not) or if he even realised it was there. If he didn't, my moving my leg would only draw attention to that and if he had noticed, my _not_ moving it would make him suspect maybe that I fancied him. I dared a glance at him but he seemed quite oblivious to the contact so I left my leg there. Then I tried to focus on what Stephen was telling us.

"Most people see rock stars as these disillusioned people that aren't even like us at all, but they really aren't. Orsino Thruston, for example, is my best mate and he actually abhors the attention, being in the spotlight. Why does he continue to perform, you ask? Why, he just loves the performing and entertaining an audience but not the media and paparazzi. And—Dear, isn't this our song?"

Some slow melody came over our heads and Lola perked up. "It is!"

To us as he stood up, Stephen said, "I think my fiancé and I are going to have a bit of a dance. Excuse us, won't you?"

Giggling, Lola took his hand and flounced off to join the already swaying crowd.

Then a worry crept into my mind as I watched them disappear. I looked around the room and my fears were confirmed. Nearly every couple was dancing. To Snape I said, "We are one of the few people not dancing and the others look to be in their 120's. Would you mind dancing? I mean, if you don't want to, that's fine—"

He stood up and held his hand out to me. Very cordially, he asked, "Would you care to dance, Milady?"

He looked as though he'd just stepped out of the Victorian era and the image was "entertaining." I took his hand and stood up.

Then froze. "I don't know how to dance."

He smirked and pointed to the crowd. "I'm certain you can manage to sway from foot to foot." When I didn't budge, he added quietly, "Follow my lead and you'll do fine."

As soon as I began walking, pains shot up from my feet and I was pretty sure I could feel a few blisters. I tried to hobble as inconspicuously and as attractively as possible.

We situated ourselves near enough to LolaandStephen so they could see us easily but not so close as to make it obvious. Then Snape placed my hand on his shoulder and placed his on my lower back. His other hand gently grasped my other and he began to shift his weight from foot to foot, assuring me to follow suit.

"I'm dancing!"

He smirked. "Indeed. Now, I thought we could talk."

The euphoria from doing something I've never been able to do took over my mouth and I blurted out, "Are we breaking up?"

He was right; I _do_ embarrass myself a lot.

He inclined his head and did that intense look again. "No, actually, I wanted to talk about your reply to Stephen's question on how you knew you loved me."

"Not bad, was it?"

"Any truth to it?"

_More_ blushing. I almost stuttered at the reply. "No." Ginny would disagree, but then again, she also seemed to think Snape was currently harbouring feelings for me.

Then, to my horror, I think he cast a silent Legilimency on me because then he smiled in that way he had of meaning he knew you were up to something.

So I changed the subject. "Who is Calus?" I know, smooth transitions: that's me.

"Don't veer off topic."

"Well, you won't tell me and I want to know how I'm supposed to find out his identity without you telling me."

"Now, Miss Granger, you know for a fact you will find out somehow, as when you initially began your investigation, you didn't know I was privy to the knowledge; you will just have to go at it as if I weren't here."

"Could you at least give me a hint?"

"No."

"At least answer this: Is his name actually Calus?"

He closed up. "I will neither confirm nor disprove that question."

Then I had a brilliant epiphany. "Wait, if his first name isn't Calus, is it his surname?"

"No."

"What about his middle?"

"Miss Granger, we are supposed to appear in love, not arguing."

Oh my god! I almost hugged him. "It _is_ his middle name!"

He eyed a spot on my shoulder. "I didn't say that."

"Oh, thank you, Severus!" I then lowered my voice. "Ok, is he tall, short, what?"

"Will you marry me?"

My heart suddenly turned into a hard knot and I could only blink at him. "W-what?"

Then he grinned. "It derailed you from Calus, didn't it?"

I gave him my best disapproving frown. "You're mean."

"What?" he asked, "Did you _want_ to marry me?"

I only glared. No, of course I hadn't. Because that would mean that I fancied him and fantasized about kissing him, which I never had…much.

He went on, unbeknownst of my thoughts (thank _Merlin_). "I would like to talk about something else as well. Miss Weasely, or Mrs. Potter if you will, visited me earlier today."

My heart keeled over right there and my lungs seemed to contract, cutting off the oxygen from my brain. "She did?" Oh, this couldn't be good.

He nodded. "It seems the two of you had a conversation earlier today? About me?"

I felt my head grow heavy from lack of oxygen, thus rested my forehead against his shoulder (ignoring the butterflies that resulted from the move) and groaned into his chest. "What did she say?"

"She told me that if I wanted a quick way to get you in my bed, all I would have to do would be to read you Jane Austen as that tends to put you in a romantic mood."

Oh, my _God_, I was going to murder Ginny. She told me she wouldn't tell anyone that! I didn't want Snape knowing every intimate detail about me! I most certainly would have cast a ground-opening spell right then and there if it wouldn't have drawn too much attention.

"She also said—"

Oh, bloody hell, there was **more**!

"That you are attracted to a man who can cook. Especially if they can make cheesecake. She went on to explain that you had this huge fear that you would make an odd noise during the act of lovemaking and once had a dream that you sounded like an elephant. She also said—"

"Could you just please stop and forget everything she told you? _Please?"_ I pleaded into his chest. "Just…oh, Merlin, I am going to kill that woman!"

He chuckled and his chest vibrated. He put his hands on each side of my face and pulled me back so that he could look into my face, which I imagined was an impossible shade of red. "I assure you I won't tell anyone else. But no, I won't forget all she said, as although it is probably none of my business, I do find it entertaining."

"That's all I seem to be doing lately: entertaining you."

"Not on purpose, I assure you."

"You aren't going to let me live this down are you?" I asked with a sinking feeling, my face still cupped in his hands.

"No, but I am feeling charitable so I will drop it for now."

"Thank you." Maybe he wasn't so mean after all.

"Do you think you could seduce the concierge to get _us_ a free dinner here?"

Never mind.

I glowered up at him and he replied by taking my hand and spinning me.

"Lucy?"

I looked to see Lola and Stephen standing directly next to us (but for how long, I wondered).

"I have to use the witch's room," she informed me.

I wasn't so thick that I didn't know she meant me to accompany her, which I was more than willing to do if it meant leaving Snape and his teasings. Even if I would have to listen to more tales of LolaandStephen.

Plus my feet were beginning to hurt and being let off my feet sounded heavenly.

As soon as we entered the ridiculously decorated bathroom (did we _really_ need a fireplace and loveseat?), Lola peered under the stalls.

Turning to me, she grabbed my shoulders and sat me down. "I wanted to tell you earlier but I couldn't find the time."

She looked really worried so I asked if everything was alright.

"I just…I went to St. Mungo's today and I'm…pregnant."

Oh. I'd thought she was going to tell me she had an incurable disease or something.

"Lola, that's brilliant! Was Stephen excited?"

She shook her head gravely. "I haven't told him yet. You see, Lucy, when we began dating he told me he didn't want children yet. What should I do?"

Why do people always come to me for advice on such things? Ninety percent of their circumstances, I've never had myself. I'll just do what I do with others, give my best and try to summon my inner-Ginny. "Tell him. If he loves you like I know he does, he'll love the baby."

"Are you certain?"

"Yeah."

"When do you think I should tell him?"

"Tonight." I told her. "When you two are alone."

"Well, I kind of want to tell him now. Would you mind if we left early or does that seem rude of me?"

I assured her that no, it was fine and that I had things to do. I didn't mention that those things were committing homicide and avoiding Snape.

She asked me to wait for her while she used the loo as this was a thing pregnant women frequently do. Four years later, she washed her hands and we left.

When we returned to the table, where Snape and Stephen were sitting, they halted

their conversation and stood up.

Lola told them, "I'm feeling a bit sleepy."

I admit it was adorable that Stephen immediately grew worried and was at her side as if he feared she might pass out. "Why don't we head home? Do you mind?" He asked Snape and me. We both said no and they tipped the waiter and walked out like a severely deformed animal.

I turned to Snape to say goodbye but found him staring down at my feet in horror. "What the hell were you two doing in there?"

I followed the line of his gaze…and gasped. My feet were bleeding. There were pools of blood spilling from my heels and there was a blister peeking from under my straps on each foot. No wonder my feet felt as if they'd been whipped; they looked as if they had been too!

"Oh, Ellen lent me these. She must not have broken them in yet." I looked up at him. "I'll take them off outside and pop home and soak them."

To my surprise, he shook his head. "No, that won't help them. I have a remedy that would work."

"No, I'm fine—"

In a very authoritive voice not unlike what he used to use instructing his classes, he looked me directly in the eye. "You aren't. You will be off your feet for days if you have _your_ way."

"It's the weekend," I protested. "So I'll have to sit for the duration. That's not too bad." I decided to take a step to show him how fine I _was_ on my own. But when I did so, a blister popped, along with a few nerve endings causing me to nearly keel over in pain. I cried out and had to cling to Snape to keep from doing a full face plant on the cream carpet.

Suddenly, I found myself literally swept off my feet as Snape scooped me up as if I were a feather pillow. I looked up at Snape in shock and in a calm reply, he said, "I'll have none of your Gryffindor arrogance. You're coming with me."

I would have argued about how he could be arrested for kidnapping but it felt brilliant to be off my feet so I only nodded and he Disapparated us.

"This isn't where I live," I said when we reached our destination, which was on the edge of Hogwarts grounds. "Why are we here?"

As he took off down the hill, he answered smoothly, "I said _I_ beheld the cure, did I not? As I am currently living at Hogwarts, and do not, contrary to rumours, carry my entire stock of potions on my person, it makes sense that I might bring you here."

I said nothing the rest of the trip, settling to seethe instead. Well, he _was_ right but did he have to be so damn cocky about it?

Suddenly, Snape's grip on me disappeared. I mean, he just let _go_ of me. I let out a yelp and clung like death was beneath me to his neck to keep from falling. When I looked, he was grinning wolfishly and I felt his arms hold me once again. This all happened in quarter of a heartbeat. Even though I knew he was only doing it to frighten me. I didn't let go of him…just in case.

We entered the castle and I couldn't help but gawp around at the familiar surroundings. I was happy that it hadn't changed at all from the four years I'd been away. It was comforting to see again and I all but sighed in contentment despite the fact that:

I was probably bleeding to death from my feet.

Snape had just recently admitted to knowing some (if not all) my more mortifying secrets and

He was now carrying me. Ok, that bit isn't so bad but it is a bit unnerving how enjoyable it _was_.

It was when we descended into the dark dungeons that I did grow nervous. I mean, I never really had happy memories there, unless being insulted constantly is what you'd count as happy. And having the source leading me there wasn't pleasing.

Was that Snape going to come back? The one who hated everyone?

When I had run into him (or, rather, he into me), he treated me a lot differently than he had. Sure, he made fun of me and was unafraid of laughing at me. And ok, he was only helping me because it also suited him. But the thing was, he hadn't insulted me. Not once. It sounds small as you might be thinking, "Big deal; loads of people don't insult me everyday." Good point but from someone who affronted everyone daily, who looked down on just about everyone, it was nice to have a break.

But he could start it up again at any moment. In fact, there were many instances where he could easily have slighted me, but hadn't.

And now he was actually _helping_ me!

It was almost too much for a girl to take. So I decided to forget all the depressing thoughts and be thankful that he was being nice.

We arrived at the potions classroom door (he'd returned to teaching the course since he only took the DADA position in order to help carry out the plan to save Dumbledore and himself) and he released the wards.

The room was as black as something really dark and I wondered how, in Merlin's name, he could see where we were going. I mean, I couldn't even see his _face_, which was only four inches from mine.

We stopped probably in front of his potions cupboard door and he lifted those veils as well. "_Inluminus._"

It definitely wasn't a potions cupboard; it was a room, a _living_ room to be exact with two doors, one to his bedroom and the other to the loo.

The décor was minimal at best, only holding a sofa, fireplace, and walls and walls of bookshelves heaving with various volumes. I figured he was going to set me on the couch but he turned left before we reached it, and walked through one of the doors.

And, bloody hell, I was in his bedroom. It was as dark as expected, though lacking the estimated shrieking women hanging from the walls. There was an oversized bed floating waist-high, that was, on the left side of the door. Along side the right, there was a dresser, in the corner, a grandfather clock. Next to that was a chest, with a chair in the other corner. There was a huge wardrobe across the room from the dresser as well. A normal average bedroom (minus the fact that the bed was floating). So why did I suddenly feel really, I don't know, intimate?

This only lasted up until the moment he unceremoniously dumped me onto the bed. I bounced around a bit and had to grab onto the comforter to keep from flying off.

"Thanks." I said, not bothering to mask the sarcasm.

You'd think throwing sarcasm around easily himself, Snape'd be able to recognize it immediately. But no, he only said, "You're welcome," as he disappeared through a door I hadn't seen located between the chair and wardrobe. He was back in seconds, holding a tiny vial containing a pale blue liquid.

"Take those off," he instructed, nodding at my feet.

I literally had to peel the shoes off and I swear some of my skin stuck to it. I cast a quick Scouring charm on them to remove the remnants of my feet so Ellen didn't kill me for ruining her shoes. And my feet looked worse with them off, with dried blood and pus everywhere.

I was completely repelled by them. From Snape, I expected, at the very least, some revulsion. Chastisement for my stupidity, I felt quite sure, would soon follow—as if I didn't feel stupid enough.

To my surprise, Snape neither chastised me nor looked disgusted. He merely examined my foot with what I could only describe as almost clinical detachment. He didn't pour the liquid on though but instead aimed his wand at his potions cupboards, causing a small vial of a greenish liquid to fly into his outstretched hand, which he poured onto both my feet, now in his lap, while I rested on my elbows, watching him. There was a slight tingling feeling and the serum completely cleaned my feet, making it easy to see the small volcanoes that were blisters. There was one on the top of each of my feet and one on the heels. Who **_knew_ **how many were on the bottom.

The blue liquid he poured into the palm of his hand and began gingerly applying it to my feet. This took only seconds and he did it without emotion, but this felt very personal, him touching my feet. I mean, I wasn't weird about people touching them (although I was a bit ticklish), it was just…I can't even describe it.

I then realized something was happening; I was beginning to not feel him rub it in. "Professor? Are my feet supposed to be numb?"

He glanced up while he applied some potion to my big toe. "For a few hours, yes. From the cleaning solution."

"A few hours?" I repeated dumbly. "How am I getting home?"

He cast both bottles back to their places before answering. His inky black eyes leveled on me. "Well, that is up to you. I can either carry you back, or, if you want, you could stay the night here."

Did I misunderstand him? "Here?" My mother's constant nagging about manners suddenly flew into my head. So I added, "I don't want to bother you. But won't carrying me inconvenience you as well?" I couldn't walk as I was currently numb ankle-down. I weighed my options.

**STAY**

**Pros:**

1. I wouldn't have to make him carry me again.

2. The bed was comfortable.

3. I wouldn't have to lie if Lola asked me if I ever slept in his bed.

**Cons:**

1. I would be kicking him out of his bed.

2. I wanted him to sleep in there with me (do _not_ as me why, as this revelation both shocked and disturbed me as well).

**GO HOME**

**Pros:**

1. I could sleep in my own bed without constantly thinking of its owner.

2. I wouldn't be kicking him out of his.

**Cons:**

1. I would have to force him to carry me.

2. I _wanted_ to sleep in his bed.

Well, it was obvious, the only resolution. I sighed. "I'd like to stay here, if you don't mind." He nodded, got up, and pulled one of his drawers open.

His back to me, he said, "If you don't want to sleep in that, I could lend you something of mine. Unless you are uncomfortable doing so."

I was but probably not for the reasons he was thinking. "Thank you; that would be brilliant."

He handed me two pieces of cloth and left the room, promising as he shut the door, that he'd be back in when I called.

I held the clothes in front of me. He'd given me a black button-up shirt and pair of black boxer shorts. Ginny's voice suddenly popped into my head—

"Bloody hell, mate, you're sleeping in his bed, going to fancy dress dinners with him, getting carried around by him, and even wearing his clothes; why don't you just marry the man already?"

I shushed her and got undressed, a slow process when one has to lie down to do so. And thank Merlin the band on the bottoms was elastic because the shirt was quite large on me. Not that Snape was fat--or anywhere near overweight, for that matter--but he was a lot taller with broader shoulders and I felt really small in the shirt, which hung off my shoulders near my elbows. And the bottom of the shirt went far past the boxer shorts. Nevertheless, I was able to dress myself and called out for Professor Snape soon afterward.

He reappeared and summoned my clothes and (evil) shoes to his dresser, where they folded themselves. He stood over me as I covered myself up (the dungeons had yet to warm) and smirked.

"What?" I demanded a little sharply for someone who should be very grateful for the help he'd given me.

He grinned wolfishly again. "I now have you right where I want you."

All bodily functions threw up their hands and quit. I could only stare as one thought raced through my mind: Whenever a man says that to a woman lying in a bed, it could only mean one thing and I don't think it is really necessary for me to elaborate.

But did he mean what I thought he meant? And would I resist, if so?

The answer to both questions was no.

"I think I will now tell you everything Mrs. Potter enlightened me of earlier."

"No, please!" I begged, secretly slightly crestfallen. "I am a helpless woman! It would be cruel to do such a thing to me!"

He smirked and did a quick exhale through his nose. "I suppose I could go easy this once." Then he got serious. "If you need me, just call."

I nodded, thanked him, and he left, shutting the door tightly behind him. I flipped off the light and snuggled down into the warm bed. I was just wondering how I was ever going to be able to sleep, when, next thing I knew, I was off in dream land.

* * *

A/N: Who here's jealous of Hermione? Ah well, the best is yet to come...::evil grin:: 

Oh betas

How intelligent you are

Were I wealthy

I would buy you both cars

R&R!

Next chappie...In which a witch (but which witch?) gets a surprise...


	8. The Morning After

**Disclaimer**

Oh, Dearest Ms. Rowling

How ingenius you are

To let me use your characters

You should also, get a new car

* * *

The Morning After

A knock on the door awoke me.

When I first opened my eyes, panic surged through my veins. For a second I couldn't remember where I was or how I'd got there but the memory soon returned and I sighed.

I figured it was Snape knocking on the door so I slid off the bed and walked, I am pleased to report, painlessly and barefoot, over to the door. To my chagrin, however, there was no one there when I opened the door. In fact, Snape wasn't in the living room at all.

More knocking and the source was coming from the entrance. I shrugged helplessly to myself, padded over, and opened the door carefully.

A bit more silver-haired than I remembered, Professor McGonagall said, "Severus, I need—" She seemed to realize that I wasn't Snape. "Oh, I wasn't aware he had company…wait." Alarm filled the witch's face as she looked over me from head to toe and back. "Miss _Granger_??"

I smiled warmly and opened the door wider. "It's lovely to see you again, Professor! Do come in. I don't know where Severus went but we can visit until he returns."

She blinked at me from behind her eye-shaped spectacles. "You look as if you just woke up."

She finally stepped in and I shut the door behind her. "I did, but don't worry; you didn't wake me. I think I was easing awake anyway."

She only looked at me in horror as if the mere thought of sleeping were atrocious and taboo. She opened her mouth to speak when a voice suddenly greeted—

"Minerva? What brings you here?"

I looked over her shoulder to see Snape. Professor McGonagall whipped around and gasped aloud.

I didn't blame her. For Snape had stepped out of the loo in nothing but flannel trousers, i.e. he had no shirt on. Now I had previously assumed he was really thin.

No, I was wrong; he was _lean._ His body looked like it could possibly be on the cover of any ladies' magazine, and possibly a few men's. Those abs and that chest were beautiful, a sin to have been hidden, and I felt myself flush from my frizzy head to my no-longer-painful feet.

I don't think McGonagall had gasped for the same reason I did because she was now looking back and forth between us and practically yelling, "Severus, I demand you explain this _NOW!_"

He looked all innocent (at least from the neck-up) and asked, "Explain what?"

Her face turned eight different shades of violet as she threw her arm wildly in my direction. "Did she sleep here last night?"

There was a slight smile on his face as he folded his arms (doing wonderful things to his muscles) and answered, "She did."

"In your room?"

"Yes."

"And is that your shirt she is wearing?"

"That along with my boxer shorts."

She whipped to me and eyed my waist as if it were a dangerous snake. To him, she asked, sweeping her hand in the direction of his ensemble, "You slept in that?"

He smirked devilishly. "Most of the night."

I had a sneaking hunch why McGonagall was angering and precisely what he was doing.

I thought she was about to either cry, pass out, or both as she asked in a voice that

trembled all over the place, "Where did you sleep, Severus?"

One of his inky black eyebrows went up provocatively. "Where do you think?"

"You took advantage of her?!" she shrieked.

Before she could strangle him and throw me into a convent, I interjected, "Professor, he slept on the couch."

She looked at me almost pityingly. "Dear, don't cover for him."

"Really. My feet were in a right state from my shoes and he took me here to cure them. The potion he put on numbed my feet and he let me take his bed while he slept on the couch. Yes, these are his clothes but I borrowed them so I wouldn't have to sleep in my skirt."

"Yes, Minerva," came Snape, "What did you think happened?"

She opened her mouth and closed it, then repeated the action two more times, looking very much like a hungry anglerfish.

Both of his eyebrows were in his fringe now. "You surely didn't think I seduced her into my bed and shagged her all night until she was within an inch of her life? You should be ashamed of yourself. How little you think of me! Not to mention Miss Granger's ability to resist my charms!"

She glowered up at him. "You did that of purpose and you know it."

He chuckled. "Getting you in turmoil is a hobby of mine. I thoroughly enjoyed your scolding. I think you were about to murder me."

"I would have had you actuallyseduced her."

Looking pointedly at me, he said meaningfully, "It wouldn't be _me_ to do the seducing. And if I did, I would need the aid of Jane Austen."

Oh, I hated him.

Thankfully, my former Transfiguration professor didn't catch on. She turned to me.

"I'm sorry, dear. I cannot believe I jumped to such conclusions. Of course, you are old enough to make your own decisions, even if that means sleeping with him. I just worry. You know that I will always view you as my student, as will _most_ of your professors." At the last part, she glanced at Snape, who raised his hands in a "_What?"_ sort of way. Back to me, she said, "It _was_ nice to see you again. You were a great student, so bright."

"Is there a reason you came here, Minerva, other than to accuse me of things I didn't do? Again."

"Oh, of course. I wanted to know if you would take my nine o'clock patrol tomorrow if I take your Hogsmeade chaperoning today?"

He shrugged. "I suppose."

She thanked him, apologized to me once more, said goodbye to us both, and left with a flourish of her robes, leaving Snape and me to stand there awkwardly.

After several ticks of the clock, I told him, "Well, I suppose I'll go."

I turned to go back into the room as he said, "You won't have breakfast?"

"No, sorry. One, I'm not going to wear those shoes and don't want to go into the Great Hall barefooted. Also, I have things to do, such as murder Ginny."

He nodded and I returned to the room to change back into Ellen's outfit. I folded Snape's things, set them on the dresser, and picked up the shoes. I definitely wasn't going to wear those again.

When I stepped out, I found Snape waiting for me. "I'll walk you out if you'd like."

"Thank you," I said. Especially since I didn't really remember where the Apparition point was.

We exited both his quarters and classroom, ascended the staircases, walked through the sunny courtyard, and walked away from the castle.

I stepped cautiously, so as to avoid any poison ivy, sharp stone or roots, or burrs. We walked in comfortable silence…until we reached the Disapparation point, that is.

"Thank you again for helping me and letting me sleep there," I said.

He held out an object to me. "I don't mind. Here, this is for you for your stay in Azkaban after you murder your friend."

I took it. It was a book, the title reading, _Pride and Prejudice_. I scowled up at him.

"You're terrible, you know that?"

He looked very pleased with himself. "Bye," he simply said and stalked back down the hill.

Instead of Disapparating to my flat, I went to Ginny's. First things first…

-------------------------------------------

"What were you thinking?"

It was the first thing I demanded so it was completely understandable that Ginny didn't understand at first. But she would. Ohh, yes, she would.

She sat on her couch, still looking a bit flustered at my suddenly appearing in her living room. "Hermione! I th-thought you'd be over after your date."

"Don't change the subject. You know, Snape told me he had a little chat with you."

Her smile fell and her eyes went downcast. "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'. Ginny, why did you tell him all those embarrassing things? He's going to hold it over my head for the rest of my life." I thrust the novel at her. "He even gave me this as I was leaving!"

She stood up and put both her hands out. "Now, I understand why you are angry but I have a good reason."

Oh, I couldn't wait to hear _this_.

"Now, I was visiting George and Fred in their shop in Diagon Alley. I was in The Leaky Cauldron when in walked Snape. You see, I went over and asked him if he remembered me and he did and I told him that I knew of the scheme you two had cooked up and…I told him how to seduce you."

What? "How does that atone for saying that?"

She shrugged. "Well, I thought I would help you two get together."

That was enough for me. Before I collapsed onto the floor I moved to the nearest chair and buried my head in my hands. I know I sounded like I was whining but I really didn't care. "But, Ginny, you _promised!_"

"No," she said matter-of-factly. "No. I said I wouldn't bring it up with you anymore. Well, I didn't. I never said I wouldn't say anything to Snape."

When I glared up at her between my arms, she rolled her eyes, sat down, and placed a motherly hand on my knee. "I was only trying to help. I figured you'd be happy with him; you _seem_ happy only pretending to date him, why not the real thing?" She sighed and lowered her voice. "Look, I promise I won't say anything more to him, ok?"

I reluctantly looked up at her. I didn't like to argue and I wasn't really mad at her but just at having to deal with it. She was my friend, and who likes arguing with their mates?

She sensed my resignation because her tone brightened. "Now that that's all over and done with, Let me just say how glad I am that you're wearing a dress, and you look beautiful."

"Thank you. But it was only a one time thing."

"Why?" she asked, her face curling up into a question mark.

"It was only for my date last night. And I only wore it today because I didn't stop home to change before coming here."

"What do you mean you didn't…did you go to an all-night restaurant or something?"

What was she on about? "No, we left the Frog Prince at about ten, why?"

I knew exactly what went through her mind as her eyes went colossally wide. "Its not what you think." As cliché as it sounded, that was all I could think of to say.

She shook her head, her now hanging jaw scraping the floor. "You stayed over at his flat."

"Because of my feet. The shoes gave me horrible blisters and…" Judging by her expression, the only way to convince her that nothing happened would be to let her see it for herself. I touched the tip of my wand to my temple and extracted the memory. I tapped it into a conjured vial and handed it to her. "There. Now I am going to return these to Ellen and rest the rest of the weekend. You can see the entire thing for yourself and how wrong you are. Good day."

I love proving my point. Especially if it is a matter that I am not well equipped with.

I didn't lie when I told her what I was going to do. I did suddenly feel as if it'd been weeks since my last sleep and I _did_ have to give Ellen back her outfit and demented shoes.

* * *

A/N: Who loved my innuendos? Ah hahaha. That was the funnest chappie to write. How lovely we all got to see shirtless!snape. Ahhhh. This is all too fun.

Again, sorry for any OOCness. I just had to do it.

More bad poetry!!!!

Betas, oh betas

How thankful I am to have thee

If you were a tree

You would not be editing this story

R&R!

And next chappie...Hermione gets down to business...


	9. Tracking Down Calus

**Disclaimer**

Snape is not mine

But were it so

He would not be a murderer

And all those clothes would have to go.

* * *

Tracking down Calus

_**Dear Calus,**_

_**I normally don't write to these things but I'm worried and since you seem to be the only person to get to the point, I figure you are the only one I could turn to.**_

_**You see, I am a forty-year young woman and I have a teenage son who tells me everything. I mean, he told me when he had his first kiss, when he gets poor grades, there is nothing he does that is hidden from me. The thing is, he is being accused of creating illegal potions and selling them. Even, they say, using them on himself.**_

_**This is a false accusation! I know it is because my son, "Jason" would have told me if this was true and he denied all counts against him. They found some of the potions in his room but someone must have planted them. I know he's innocent but how do I prove so?**_

_**-Mum Without a Doubt**_

_Mum, _

_Are you really that ignorant? Lady, I am going to tell you now that he doesn't tell you everything. Did he tell you when he got his first shag, because I guarantee he's no longer a virgin. No kid in his right mind would tell him mum he was dealing or, if he was, trafficking women. Stop the conspiracy theories, alright? Chances are, no one planted those potions there. He's guilty, whether you like it or not. I'm terribly sorry he's ruining your Stepford Wives scenario but you are just going to have to stop denying things._

_**Dear Calus,**_

_**I think my girlfriend is dying. She fell asleep two nights ago and won't wake up. I don't know if she is breathing or anything but she just lies there, still as a tree. What should I do?**_

_**-Worried**_

_Worried,_

_Now, we both know your girlfriend isn't dying because, if she were, you'd have called the Aurors by now, not written into a news article. _

_No, you just wanted to be in the papers, didn't you? So you could show your little buddies that you got to write to me and I answered. Well, you got your wish. All your mates get to see me call you an insolent fool whose IQ probably isn't even in the double digits. _

_Do us all a favor, "Worried", and get off your lacy arse and do something with your life. Or, better yet, walk off a cliff somewhere. Then we'll all be happy._

Lola was beside herself with glee when I arrived at _The Daily Prophet_ headquarters. Predictably, Stephen had been thrilled about the pregnancy and she went through the names she wanted for the baby. Heaven help the poor child, these are the names she thought of.

_**BOY**_

_Stephen Jr._

_Stephen II_

_Elkin Wandran_

_Lankige_

_Abarouth_

_Madagascar_

_**GIRL**_

_Lola Jr._

_Lola II_

_Wendy_

_Benika_

_Jelingish_

_Donna_

Let's hope for the sake of her baby's sanity that she has a girl. Donna and Wendy are a _lot_ better than Abarouth.

I couldn't talk to her much because I had things to do—ok, well, _one_ thing to do.

Don't think I forgot what Snape had told me between the embarrassments: Whoever this Calus was, he'd taken his nomme de plume from his middle name. And I had a mate in America who could easily help me.

_Mandy,_

_Sorry I haven't spoken with you for a while but I need to call in a favour. If you would, if you could, please find me all the names, first, middle, and last, of any employees at _The Daily Prophet_. I would really appreciate it and promise to explain why when this is all over. Please send the results to:_

_Lucy Puckle_

_C/O The Daily Prophet_

_No. 34 Eleka Rd._

_London, England 392012-7563_

_Again, thank you so much._

_-Hermione_

But while I awaited the reply, I didn't plan to just sit around doing nothing. No, I had another method, another possible lead.

Caleb.

_No,_ I am not thick; I learnt my lesson the first time and I know he isn't Calus. But he did say something about a group trying to find Calus and the suspicions they had on him. They might know something.

This is why I sat with him in the cafeteria.

I sat my tray down and folded my arms, not giving him time to bring up Friday's event. "Listen, I need your help. You mentioned previously that you might know people privy to information regarding Calus."

"I did," he replied evenly over his sandwich.

"Do you think you could get me everything you can on him for me? I'll do anything you ask."

He sighed and set his food down. "Listen, love, nobody appears to have informed you but I don't lust after your type. I prefer…a more masculine persuasion."

First, I try to seduce a gay man. Who's next; a Catholic priest?

"I didn't mean anything sexual. I meant anything else."

"Oh. Well, then, it just so happens I got a lot today." With a flick of his wand, a stack of papers came flying out of nowhere into his outstretched hand. It doubled when he ordered, "_Duplicio_!"

He handed one to me. "There. Now leave me alone. That's what I want you to do in turn for my helping: go away."

Well, that was easy.

The papers didn't bring up too much that I could use. What they told me was either something I knew already or complete rubbish. There was one thing that was useful.

And that was where Calus' office was located. Apparently, one of the other Calus Hunters—or whatever they called themselves—was a mail boy who once delivered Calus' mail to him.

And the office? You guessed it; the one Snape and I had found ourselves in. I left the cafeteria to sneak down there, now beholding a map in my hands; this wasn't too difficult (I also found the loos finally).

I eyed around the corners incase anyone happened to walk by. When I was just around the corner from His office, I heard a voice accompanied by two sets of feet.

I plastered my back against the wall and tried not to breathe.

"Come on, Calus," said a male voice I clearly recognized as Mr. Dennis'. "I'll treat you to lunch." There were two simultaneous Disapparation pops and I knew they were gone.

Even so, I waited a few seconds before daring a peek. I then walked as calmly as possible and slipped into the office that was quickly becoming familiar to me.

It didn't look much differently then any other office I'd seen. It had the basic amenities—desk, chair, bookshelves.

On the desk were two stacks of papers. One was a bit disorderly with each piece containing various penmanships, all of them starting with the words, "Dear Calus". The second pile was all in the same deeply slanted, highly calligraphic handwriting…Calus' handwriting.

Away from the stacks, nearest the chair, was a single leaf of paper, next to such, a quill resting in an inkbottle. It read,

_Dear Hazard,_

_I will never understand you types, I'm afraid. Wait, no I'm not because I don't want to understand you lot. I do believe you are the first to ever render me completely speechless. Congratulations there. _

_I will say that you are the largest_

I knew I didn't have much time and I wasn't even sure what I was going to do with it, but I quickly pocketed the letter and escaped before anyone could catch me.

Lola looked worried when I returned to our table in the eatery. "Are you ok? First, you sit with _Caleb_ then you run off as if your arse were on fire. Is everything alright?"

I assured her that I was and even proved so by participating in whatever dull conversation she happened to bring up, all the while thinking about the paper in my pocket and the mail awaiting me on my desk…possibly.

There was but not what I'd expected.

A plate of two slices of cheesecake sat atop my editing documents, cloaked in a preservation spell, along with a note saying only "I made them myself." In what was clearly Snape's handwriting.

Cheeky cat.

Sadly, that was all there was—sad because I still didn't have the results from Mandy. But I do love cheesecake and didn't bother stopping myself from practically inhaling the completely scrumptious pieces. Although I would never tell Snape that.

* * *

A/N: Almost done! Two more chappies to go!

The last of the horrible poetry!

This story was looked over

By two fabulous Betas

Who are patient with my pickyness

And thus should revieve awardas(awards)

R&R

Next Chappie...the return of Ginny Weasely...


	10. The Climax

Disclaimer: Nothing recognisable is mine. Sorry. Tis all J.K. Rowling's.

* * *

THIS IS THE PART OF THE STORY KNOWN AS THE CLIMAX… 

Ginny was sitting on my sofa when I Apparated home, shocking the stuffing out of me. Not that my Apparating home shocked the stuffing out of me; it was her being there where I didn't expect her.

She wordlessly thrust out a vial containing what appeared to be a wisp of smoke; I knew it was the memory I'd given her.

I set it down on the coffee table. "Gin, couldn't you have delivered this to me in a less startling way?"

"What is that?" she asked pointing to my plate.

"Oh, Snape sent this to me today. It was cheesecake."

She shook her head. "Now, Hermione, I know I promised not to say anything else on the subject. But you have to listen! I really do believe Snape fancies you!"

I couldn't (wouldn't) keep a groan from escaping my throat. "Oh, Ginny, do we have to do this now? I'm a bit sleepy."

She shook her head defiantly. "I have proof, solid proof this time."

"Enlighten me."

She began pacing like a person about to give their first demonstration. "Well, for one, he repeatedly used the tools I gave him to get you: the book and the cheesecake."

"Those are only to give me a hard time—" I started but her lips pursed in essence of her mum, signaling I was doing something wrong and if I continued to do so, retribution would soon follow.

"Also, he flirted with you throughout the night and was sick with worry when he realized you were hurt. Then he gave you clothes and his bed—"

"He was being _nice_, Ginny."

There was a sudden light in her eyes. "Yes, but why?"

What does she mean 'why'? "He was just being kind."

"But Snape is _never_ 'just kind'. You know that, Hermione! Why else would he be so nice if he didn't want you?"

I really couldn't answer that and was getting a bit bothered under all this rubbish. "Gin, you promised you would drop this, so could you do so now? Please?"

She sighed in overpowerment. "Alright, you win. No more from me. Until he snogs you that is. Can I just…" she pointed to my memory.

I shrugged. "Why not?"

"Well, sorry to have bothered you. I'll just go now…"

Oh, dear. "Gin, I'm not angry at you, just tired."

She nodded and left anyway. I swear her red hair was a bit dull as if the disappointment had sucked out some of the colour.

Peachy.

* * *

She wasn't done though because she walked over to my cubicle about thirty minutes after I'd arrived to work. I looked up in shock. 

"Ginny? What are you doing here?"

She shifted her weight from her left foot to her right. "Listen, can I speak with you privately? There's something I figured out from that memory that is of vital importance."

"Gin, I thought you'd promised…_again!_ I cannot believe you bothered me at work—"

She shook her head stubbornly, sending her bun to fall out slightly. In a whisper practically inaudible, she told me. "It's about this Lola person."

Just then, a tawny barn owl swooped in through one of the high windows and fluttered down onto my desk, a golden bit of down slowly floating to the floor. It (the owl, not the down) gave a soft hoot and extended its bony leg out to me, attached to which was a letter addressed to Lucy Puckle from one Mandy Leavenworth from Ohio, America. I nearly ripped the bird's leg off in an effort to snatch to letter off. To compensate, I fed it the rest of my breakfast bar.

As I ripped the envelope open, Ginny went on. "I looked at the memory once more and Snape and that Stephen were talking."

There were about twelve dozen names on the list but I knew immediately whom the real Calus was. One name jumped out at me and it was quite plainly The One.

This was it. Right there in my hands was the identity that no one had been able to figure out. I was the only one that knew the secret.

And now I had to get "Calus" and reveal it to him.

Ginny was completely oblivious to the bit of monumental information I'd just received. "Hermione, she isn't who you think she is—"

"Never mind." I cut her off and stood up. "That can wait, but now, you need to follow me."

I took off without awaiting a reply. I only glanced back once to see if she was behind me. She was…just a bit far. "Hurry up."

After about two billion turns and four sets of stairs, I was in front of his office.

Ginny came panting up. "Hermione, what in Dumbledore's knickers is this about?"

She stopped and put her hands on her knees to catch her breath. "You act as if there was a fire under your seat."

I was so euphoric my lips couldn't seem to cease from smiling with victory. "This…" I gestured showman-like to the door, "is Calus' office. Right now, he sits on the other side of this door."

Now she was smiling too. "You mean…I'm going to meet him?"

"Right now."

"Right now...!" she breathed. After three deep inhales and exhales, she clenched her eyes shut. Opening them, she assured me, "All ready."

Then I turned the doorknob and opened the door.

* * *

DUM DUM DUM...

Have you been following the clues? Do you know who Calus is? Next chappie: Who is he and what has Ginny been trying to tell us?

Oh, and many thanks to my shockingly intelligent betas. I will forever be in your debt.


	11. and Resolution

Disclaimer: My name is not Jo Rowling. Thus, anything you recognise here aren't mine. However, Caleb, Lola, Stephen, etc, are. You may play with them if you ask nicely.

* * *

...FOLLOWED BY THE RESOLUTION

Ginny half-gasped, half-shrieked. "No, it can't be."

"I take it you finally figured it out." Professor Snape stood up from behind the desk and smirked down at me. "A bit later than I'd expected but…"

My friend seemed to find her voice. "No," she told me. "That doesn't make sense! Professor _Snape_ is Calus?"

Snape barely noticed her. He came around his desk and asked me, "How did you find out?"

"With your help of course. Twice." I took out the paper I'd knicked from the office. "I took this then later, I found a cheesecake on my desk from you, with this." I handed him the note he'd left. The handwriting was nearly identical. "Now, there are many people with similar penmanships but then I had a friend find all the names of the employees with the middle name Calus, thanks to your tip. There were more than you'd think but when I saw your name on there, I _knew_ it had to be you. I mean, as far as I was previously concerned, you shouldn't have been anywhere on that list. But there you were."

"Didn't you think that my name could have gotten on there by accident or that there could possibly be another person by the same name? Its not uncommon."

"Yes, but the coincidences were too much. _You_ with Calus for a middle name? Severus Calus Snape? Also, how you were always in this corridor? And things began to make sense. I mean, when you told me you couldn't tell me the identity of Calus for fear of getting sacked, I'd thought it odd that you'd lose a completely unrelated career. But no, you meant _this_ job as the article writer. And the multi-part interview you were doing that never showed up in the paper was a bit suspicious. It also added up how you claimed having the illusion of dating me would benefit you. I wondered at that too but now I realize that other workers here might not have bought your story about the interview and you needed an excuse for your reappearances here. And how you were able to 'make certain' my letter had made it into the paper! _You_ did it. You've been he all this time!"

"Well. You seem to have figured everything out," he said, leaning on his desk, eyeing me with admiration behind his inky black eyes.

"Severus?" pressed a female voice. I turned around to see Lola peek into the room. Her eyes fell on me and she stepped fully into his office. She smiled brightly. "I take it you found out the truth?"

I blinked at her. I mean what else could I do? Things were beginning to get odd. "Wait, you knew who Calus was the entire time? You told me you didn't know!"

Ginny pointed wildly at her. "I tried to tell you! She's the editor!" she yelled then pointed at Snape. "She's _his_ personal editor!"

To me, Lola smiled apologetically. "I know a lot more than you think, Hermione. Yes, I know that you aren't Lucy Puckle: editor for _The Daily Prophet_; you are, in fact Hermione Jane Granger: reporter for _The Quibbler._

"You see," she went on to explain to my shocked self. "When I saw you two talking so familiarly with each other, I got suspicious and asked Severus who you were. He explained that you were actually here to find his identity, or rather: Calus'. He warned me that it wouldn't be long before you uncovered the truth and that, when you did, he would be giving you an interview and going public."

Oh, I was so confused. "You managed to keep all that to yourself so well! I thought…" I tried to think up something that wouldn't insult her but she finished for me—

"…That I was incapable of keeping anything private?" She gave me a smile to prove that she wasn't hurt. "See, I _had_ to self-pronounce myself the office gossip in order to keep his secret from getting out. If I was the one that seemed to know everything, then people would listen to me if I gave them information about Calus—yes, he is a bit of an obsession around here as well. This enabled me to divert their attention and lead them away from the truth."

I let out a whoosh of air. Here was a woman I'd thought I'd had all figured out, neatly labeled and placed in a box, me, a person who practically invented the term "don't judge a book by its cover" and I was completely, wholly, utterly, absolutely, totally, entirely _wrong!_ You'd think I, of all people, would have realized long ago that there was no such thing as black and white, but actually, it was all a series of greys.

"So Snape is really Calus?" Ginny asked. I knew she was thinking of her slight fancy of the writer.

"I think I will take…Ginny is it?—outside to explain the confidentiality she is now under. I'll let you take care of Hermione." With that, Lola ushered Ginny out the door, leaving me alone with Snape.

After a very swollen silence, Snape asked, running his fingers through his hair, "So you aren't angry with me?"

I walked over and leaned next to him. "No. I suppose I should be seeing as how you let me run around seducing people—"

"I honestly didn't expect you to do that," he pointed out.

"But," I continued. "I can understand. I mean, you would have lost this job and you probably also needed a reason to be seen here and me willing to pretend I was your girlfriend was just the ticket."

There was silence and I looked over at him.

He smiled bashfully. "Actually, that wasn't why I agreed to pretend with you."

_What?_

"If other people saw me, they either figured I was another journalist or being interviewed. I really didn't need anything else to keep myself hidden."

"Then why did you agree?"

He shrugged. "The pleasure of your company. Plus you said you needed it so I didn't mind doing something enjoyable. I mean, what man wouldn't agree to spending so much time with a beautiful, intelligent, not to mention thoroughly entertaining, woman?"

Even I couldn't deny that he was talking about me. And me being me, I couldn't help a flush from creeping into my cheeks.

He smiled at that. "If you want to, I would like to go on a _real_ date with you. Unless of course, that is too uncomfortable—"

He was absolutely adorable all flustered like that. And of _course_, I wasn't uncomfortable with the prospect of going on a date with him. In fact, it sent my stomach aflutter and my heart started to pound happily. "I would love to."

He smiled that beautiful and warm, not to mention _rare_, smile.

Then it was gone.

He leaned down and his eyes eased closed.

_Oh, my God, he's going to kiss me!_ I thought.

Then he said, huskily, "…Mr. Darcy turned around and addressed Elizabeth cordially with a bow…"

I opened my eyes to find him grinning wolfishly. "You are horrible, you know that?"

"Did you like the cheesecake I made for you?"

"It was delicious."

"Then I'll have to tell Mrs. Potter that her advice worked."

"That wasn't what—" I started to protest but he suddenly pressed his lips to mine, cutting off both my voice and my ability to do anything other than kiss him back. His soft lips first worked slow and gentle, but as soon as I began to respond, one arm wrapped around my waist pulling me so that my entire body was against his while his other hand went to my neck, his thumb trailing my jaw line. His kissing deepened and we even stepped into full frontal snogging.

"I knew it!" came Ginny's voice from somewhere near the door.

I knew that there'd be no more living with her after this but I really didn't care.

* * *

A/N...It's all over. There is my baby. Out in the open. And she's done. ::Sigh::

Alrighty, that was loads of fun. Let me know what all of you think of my story. If enough people review, I might write a companion where it is from Snape's point of view, including how he got to be Calus.

Oh, and I got the name from "callous" which isn't the thing you get on your hands from working too hard.

Love to my betas! How fantastical you both are!!!

Oh, and please r&r! I will give you cheesecake!


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